


First We Feast

by misshoneywell



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, F/M, Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-02-23 05:47:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 25,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2536424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misshoneywell/pseuds/misshoneywell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some appetites are not easily sated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is part one of two.
> 
> The story takes place in the fictional state of Panem.

"We are literally in the middle of nowhere," Madge observed, her face pressed so close to the glass that the tip of her perfect little nose practically rubbed the pane.

 

It took Katniss a few years to stop hating that nose, but she figured once the other girl married her best friend it was time to stop holding a grudge against prissy perfection.

 

"Yeah," Gale said, meeting Katniss' eyes through the rearview mirror. He raised an eyebrow at her in silent apology, tipping his chin when she smirked and shook her head back at him. “That's what we told you before we left.”

 

"And as we were planning the trip," Katniss added, tracing a finger against the leather of the seat interior.

 

"I know, but I just..." Madge’s voice trailed off into a question mark, unease rounding out her words. "I guess I expected more than this," she finished lamely, toying with her earrings.

 

Katniss stifled the urge to roll her eyes and instead held her tongue, if only for Gale’s sake. In truth, she wasn’t sure exactly what she had been expecting either. She had only vague memories of taking this drive with her parents as a child, and the bright leaves of the trees coupled with the dizzying, cracked roads winding around the mountainous hills pressed maddeningly against the edges of her mind.

 

They had passed only a handful of cars during the three hours that they had ventured across state lines into Panem. It was a beautiful, but lonely, terrain.

 

If someone were to look inside a vacation brochure or research into any of the typically desired destinations for a trip, Panem would be listed dead last in every regard. Known for its natural resources, it was the most remote and inhospitable of all the states in the country. It didn’t help that the majority of the cities were veritable ghost towns; a failing economy and more than a few ecological disasters had caused a mass exodus of families almost two decades ago. Even now, those who stayed were often abandoned by their children in droves who, once of age, fled to out-of-state colleges and laid down roots elsewhere.

 

Katniss wasn’t even sure if there was a college in Panem, other than perhaps in Capitol City. It was as close to the border of neighboring Virginia as a city could be, and the rest of the state was left in almost wild, natural disarray.

 

She reached into her purse and pulled out a faded photo, staring down at the church before flipping the picture around.

 

_Twelve Souls Chapel, District Twelve, Panem. 508 Nightlock Rd._

 

At first glance, it wasn’t anything special. Just a small white building on a plot of red dirt with a mountainous terrain rising behind it like a holy guardian. But to her, it was of the utmost importance.

 

She glanced down at the back seat floorboard, her eyes resting on a heavily taped box before dragging her eyes back to stare at the photo again. Twelve Souls Chapel. It was the church where her parents had been married.

 

It was where she was going to scatter her parents’ ashes.

 

Sussing out where exactly the township of District Twelve was located hadn’t been easy. It wasn’t even on any modern maps. After a series of mine cave-ins, it had been incorporated into another outlying district slapped with an inconsequential number-- District Thirteen. She considered herself fairly proficient with the internet, but the only facts she could come up with had been gleaned from a few academic articles on the cave-ins, and the unpredictable geology of the landscape.

 

It wasn’t until she finally took a chance on a fairly shady message board that she discovered District Twelve was one of the stops of interest for those who liked to explore ghost towns and off-the-beaten track roadside attractions. She had inhaled in shock when she saw one post mention a local gem within the District Twelve-- a small diner that made delicious pastries.

 

“You still alive back there?” Gale asked.

 

Katniss blinked and jerked her chin. “Yeah.”

 

He eyed her and nodded back, turning up the stereo and letting one of his favorite rock bands fill the silence of the car. She listened to Madge murmur to him in annoyance, and tuned them out, instead letting her mind drift back to the diner on the message board.

 

She carefully placed the photo of the church back inside her purse and pulled out another photo, this one even more precious to her than the other.

 

Two small faces greeted her like old friends, one grinning and gap toothed, two brown braids flopped carelessly over her shoulders. The other was solemn and blue-eyed with blonde waves sticking up in places, his eyes glued to the little girl next to him on a matching diner stool. It was her and-- who knows? It plagued her that she didn’t know. Why was it important? Why was a photo of her and a little boy stuck in a box of her mother’s things, a box that had been hidden yet clearly treasured? They were the only two photos from her mother’s past that were kept.

 

Was the diner in the photo the same one mentioned on the message board? It had to be.

 

Katniss remembered tripping all over herself in haste to make a username once she saw a diner mentioned on the website, furiously typing a post and asking for the name of the diner and directions to District Twelve. She held her breath for days, concerned that she wouldn’t get a response. It worried her that the user was last active on the message board two years prior. When she finally received an email notifying her of a response, she had jumped to read the response.  

 

Their reply had been brief and somewhat disappointing-- it had been years since they happened to find the small town. They didn’t remember a name or specific directions, just that they followed Route 74 and stumbled upon it.

 

Gale was the one to encourage her not to give up. He pushed her to take the road trip just to see if they could find the location of the town. “Someone has to know along the route,” he had argued, tapping a finger insistently on a map laid out on her kitchen table. “It didn’t just disappear. You have to try.”

 

He would have said anything to cheer her up, to give her a sense of purpose. Losing her mother not even one year after her father had been difficult to say the least. She almost lost her job, so grief stricken that she had barely made it out of her bed on the bad days. On the really bad days, well...they had sent her spiraling into behavior that caused Gale to almost have a heart attack and hover over her like a worried mother hen.

 

She still had bad days. But it was her hope that scattering her parents' ashes, her only family in the world, would give her some level closure. Some sense of peace. She hoped at the very least that they could find District Twelve.

 

If they didn’t, she would feel even worse about dragging her best friend and his pregnant wife on a futile road trip just so she wouldn’t try to commit suicide again.

 

She rubbed at the scar on her wrist. That had been a really bad day.

 

“I have to pee,” Madge announced, her expression sheepish.

 

“God,” Gale groaned. “I asked you if you had to go when we passed that station a few miles ago!”

 

“I didn’t have to go then,” she argued, flushing as she met Katniss’ eyes in the rearview mirror. “I’m sorry, Katniss.”

 

“It’s fine,” she said, surprised. “Why are you apologizing to me?”

 

“Because I’m ruining your trip!” she burst out, quiet tears sliding down her face.

 

Gale and Katniss stared at each other helplessly. They were both equally ill-equipped to deal with emotional outbursts from a hormonal pregnant woman.

 

“Er. I’m sorry.” Gale reached over and patted his wife’s leg. “I think I need a break, too. Just to stretch our legs.”

 

“Me too,” Katniss agreed. “We’ll find another place to stop. We’re not in any big hurry, right?”

 

“No,” Gale said. “We’ll need to stop soon anyway. I don’t like to get too low on gas, and we’re not really passing a whole lot of stations.”

 

“I’m sure we’ll pass one soon,” Madge said, wiping her face.

 

* * *

 

They didn’t.

 

Thirty minutes passed. Madge twisted in her seat anxiously, tapping her nails against the center console. Katniss felt bad for her until Gale suggested that maybe they should stop and let her go on the side of the road, and Madge bit his head off.

 

He sounded a little uncomfortable, and Katniss understood at once. There was something eerie about making this drive. It wasn’t just the lack of traffic. It was emanating from the boarded up buildings and hollowed out homes and overgrown strips of farmland.

 

She shivered when they passed a field of white-boned skeletons peeking over crabgrass and burned cornstalks.

 

“Dead cows,” Madge said uneasily, giving voice to Katniss’ thoughts. “Why did they just let them die? Who would do that?”

 

“I don’t know. Maybe they were sick,” Gale replied. “Look, a gas station.”

 

Katniss didn’t miss the relief in his words, and she waited while Madge practically fell out of the car in her haste to empty her bladder.

 

“Be careful,” Gale called after her, stepping out of the car and stretching leisurely. “You might need to get a tetanus shot from the looks of this place.”

 

Madge waved him off with an uncharacteristically rude gesture and disappeared inside the ramshackle building, and Katniss took the opportunity to lean against the car with him for a moment.

 

“Do you want to go back?” she asked seriously.

 

“What?” Gale raised an eyebrow at her. “No. Why?” He pushed off of the car with his downturned palms and took a step toward the pump, his eyes narrowing. “Shit. This hillbilly station doesn’t even take credit cards.”

 

“Because of, you know. All this,” she replied, waving toward the pump. “Everything has been a little weird and disastrous.”

 

“And creepy?” he asked, laughing at her. He waved at her to follow him as he started walking toward the station. “Don’t tell me you’re getting jumpy like Madge.”

 

“Excuse me?” Her lip curled in annoyance. “You were the one who sounded a little nervous in the car.”

 

“Because I didn’t want to run out of gas,” he replied firmly. “After you, scaredy-Katniss.” He paused to hold open the door for her.

 

An old-fashioned copper bell above the door let out a rusty chime, the little thing sounding about as hospitable as the grizzled man inside looked. He was perched on a groaning stool behind a wooden counter that looked as if it would yield splinters just by staring at it. His eyes ticked back and forth lazily as he read from a magazine, not so much as flicking a glance in their direction as Gale approached the counter.

 

“I’d like sixty dollars worth of gas, please,” she heard Gale ask. “Do you want anything, Katniss?”

 

She shook her head, distracted by a selection of jewelry lying next to an outdated stack of worn paperbacks.

 

A bright gold bird strung on a thin chain, beautiful and delicate despite being nothing more than brushed nickel, seemed as out of place in this small, dank store as Madge did emerging from the narrow bathroom next to the counter. She grimaced at Katniss, who shrugged and turned her stare back to the necklace again, her fingers rubbing the scar on her wrist reflexively before reaching out a tentative hand toward the necklace.

 

She stroked the tiny charm. God, how her mother had loved birds.

 

“Careful, sweetheart.” Her eyes flew to look at the main behind the counter, who was still casually flipping through his magazine, ignoring the cash that Gale held in his hand. “Don’t want to touch anything. Might have to get a tetanus shot and all.”

 

Madge blushed furiously, shooting an annoyed look at Gale, who had the good grace enough to look a little ashamed of himself.

 

“Ah. Sorry about that, sir,” Gale said, his hand still outstretched awkwardly. “It’s been a long trip.”

 

“Not ‘sir.’ Just Haymitch,” he grunted, pointing to the sign out the window.

 

Haymitch’s Place. Original.

 

“On your way back home?” the man called Haymitch asked uninterestedly, finally deigning to accept the money from Gale.

 

He pressed a few buttons on the ancient register, cursing under his breath as he pounded a button until a tray full of crumpled bills cautiously creaked out of the machine.

 

“Actually, no,” Katniss said, letting the necklace drop back down to the battered velvet tray on the counter. “You might could help us with something, though. We’re looking for a town. District Twelve?”

 

Haymitch paused, his eyes lifting to meet hers. He pulled a hipflask from the pocket of his worn coat, his thick, shaky fingers unscrewing the top.

 

“Why in God’s name are city folk like y’all looking for that old place?”

 

His tone rankled her.

 

“That’s not any of your business.”

 

“Well. Ain’t you a real piece of work,” he said with a smirk, the twist of his lips not extending to his eyes.

 

She couldn’t help but notice that they were grey, almost the exact shade of hers. He had fine lines like spider webs stretched from the corners, but as she searched his face, she realized he wasn’t nearly as old as he looked at first glance.

 

She waited as he took a long sip from the flask and swallowed. He coughed wetly, and a spray of liquid shot out onto the counter. Gale glared at him in disgust before turning to Katniss with an expectant look on his face. She could read his eyes clearly: _Let’s go_.

 

Madge looked like she could melt into the floor, mortified with the whole scene.

 

“I’m going to the car,” she murmured, her hand on her extended stomach as she started to walk out the door.

 

Katniss ignored them both, locked in a silent battle of wills with Haymitch.

 

“Do you know where it is?” she pressed, her elbows digging into the splintery countertop as she leaned in closer. She could smell the man’s boozy, noxious breath on her face. “It doesn’t seem to be on any modern maps I can find. Not even our GPS is any help.”

 

“Did you ever stop to think there’s a reason for that?” Haymitch drawled evenly, staring her down before shoving the flask back into his coat. “This ain’t a place for tourists.” He sat back on the stool and folded his hands on top of his paunch. “Oh, I see you types all the time. Zooming up and down these roads looking for quaint little forgotten places. Well. Sometimes there’s a reason for being land that time forgot. It’s dangerous in these parts. It ain’t...stable.”

 

“She didn’t ask for a lecture.” Gale’s words were dipped in ice.

 

“Look.” She yanked on her braid. “The sooner you tell me, the sooner we’ll be out of each other’s hair,” Katniss reasoned, shooting a warning look at her friend. _Shut up_.

 

Haymitch reached into his pocket for his flask again, taking another long sip from it. Katniss wondered why he bothered to put it away at all. She waited impatiently for him to speak again, but his eyes were fixed on the dirty window to his left. Katniss and Gale followed his line of sight to Madge, who was sitting in the passenger seat, staring toward a field in the distance, a disturbed look on her face.

 

“I  think what you ought to do is just go on home to your nice little life in your nice little town. Stop poking around places that ain’t any of your concern,” Haymitch said gruffly, turning to open the register again and grabbing three twenties out of the tray. Gale stared at him wordlessly when the bills flew toward his limp hands. “Take your money and turn on back. Panem don’t want you here.”

 

“Jesus,” Gale said, grabbing the money from where it landed on the counter. He took a few steps backward and glared. “Why don’t you just cut the bullshit, old man.” Gale’s voice was low and angry. “Just tell her what she wants to know or shut the hell up. I don’t want any fucking gas.” And then he pushed his way out of the store. “Come on, Katniss,” he demanded over his shoulder.

 

“Oh, but you will,” he muttered, grabbing a dirty napkin and jerkily scribbling something on the paper. “But if you want it, the nearest station past mine is in Twelve.” He stopped and pushed the napkin toward Katniss, and her eyes widened when she saw what were clearly crude directions. “But sweetheart?” His sudden change of tone caused her to meet his eyes. “If you don’t like my company...well. I don’t think District Twelve will be much up to your standards either. They ain’t much friendlier than me.”

 

Katniss opened and closed her mouth before settling on: “Thank you.”

 

“Oh, don’t thank me none.” His face was grim. “You’ve got a hard trip ahead of you.”

 

“Any advice for the drive?” she felt compelled to ask. She watched as he reached over and picked up the charm, motioning for her to open her hand.

 

“Stay alive,” he said, and dropped the necklace into her palm.

 

* * *

 

“What a goddamn creep!” Gale raged for the hundredth time in the past thirty minutes.

 

“All right, all right.” Madge rubbed a soothing hand up and down his leg and met Katniss' eyes helplessly through the passenger mirror. “Calm down, honey.”

 

“Does he just get a sick thrill in scaring people?” he fumed. “I can’t believe he said that shit to you, Katniss. ‘Stay alive!’ What the hell gives him the right? That’s a threat.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “I ought to call the police!”

 

“Good luck with that,” Katniss murmured, staring down at the charm in her palm.

 

“What did you say?” He glared at her through the rearview mirror.

 

“Don’t look at me like that.” She scowled back at him. “Have you seen a single police station or car in the entire time we’ve been on this trip?”

 

“911 exists for a reason,” he countered stubbornly.

 

“Hello, 911?” Katniss mocked him, pretending to call someone on her fingers. “Yes, there was a grumpy old man at a gas station that hurt my feelings.”

 

Gale stared at her before breaking into reluctant chuckles. “Fuck,” he swore, drumming his fingers on the center console, the other hand still white-knuckled on steering wheel. “Sorry. I don’t know why I let that old bastard get to me like that.”

 

“It’s okay. He was pretty strange.” She shrugged, her leg jiggling with nervous energy. “At least he gave us directions.”

 

“About that.” Gale frowned and consulted the gas tank. “We need to find a station soon. If the miles he indicated were correct, then we’re going to be…”

 

“What?” Madge asked, her words clipped and tense. “Don’t tell me we’re going to run out of gas. Gale. You should have just bought gas from Haymitch!”

 

“I think we’ll be alright. Look, there’s a sign for Diamond Cove. That sounds like a decent enough town, right?”

 

It wasn’t.

 

Gale slowed down to the 20 miles-per-hour that the speed limit sign indicated was acceptable, and three sets of eyebrows furrowed in silence as they passed a few stores and houses that were completely boarded up.

 

“Have we driven into a single town that looked lived-in?” Madge asked. “I knew there were ghost towns around here, but...this is just...where are all the people?”

 

“Haymitch said we wouldn’t find a station until we found Twelve,” Katniss murmured, staring out the window. She felt antsy. Pent-up. Like they needed to press on.

 

“Let’s just move on,” Gale muttered, pressing the gas.

 

* * *

 

Three more towns. That's how many boarded-up wastelands they passed through before Gale grimaced and met her eyes.

 

"Do you have any service on your phone?" he asked grimly, ignoring Madge's insistent questions.

 

"No." Katniss shook her head. "I stopped getting service back before we came across Haymitch."

 

"Let's just turn around," Madge pleaded, looking both apologetic and determined. "There are no gas stations. No anything!"

 

"We can't turn back," Gale snapped. "We're definitely going to run out of gas. We know for certain there are more ahead."

 

"Look around!" Madge gestured wildly toward the window. "I'm pregnant. I can't deal with this."

 

"Then you should have stayed at home!"

 

Katniss flinched, her eyes flicking to the back of Madge's head, the other girl’s blonde ponytail practically quivering with anger. She didn't know if it was a blessing or a curse when the car finally slid to a standstill minutes later, the tank hollow and needy.

 

"None of this would have happened if you hadn't been such a dick to that man!"

 

Katniss opened the door and escaped Madge's shouts, grateful to stretch her legs in relative peace,  away from the tense stand-off between the couple.

 

"I'm going to walk it," Katniss said when the car door opened and shut behind her back. She reached her arms toward the sky and eyed the surrounding woods longingly. In another scenario, she'd have loved to take her bow out and hunt the land.

 

"No way," Gale said, his voice firm. "I'll go."

 

"And leave your pregnant wife alone?" She turned and leveled him with a wry look. "That will go over super well. Besides, the directions say it should only be a couple miles that way-"

 

"Katniss."

 

"-and I can do that in my sleep."

 

Gale shook his head, but she could tell he was backing down, his eyes darting toward Madge's tense form in the car. "I don't like it," he said reluctantly.

 

"When I get there, I can get some gas. Look around, ask a few questions. Then come on back."

 

He hesitated.

 

"What?" Katniss asked, realization dawning as she watched his eyes roaming the woods uneasily. "Oh, lord. He got to you!"

 

Gale scowled. "Dammit, Katniss. It's only common sense. This is remote land. Anything could happen.” He stopped and sighed. “And. Fuck. All right. It’s creepy, okay?” he admitted, rubbing a hand down his face. “Is that what you want to hear? I’m creeped out.”

 

It wasn’t what she wanted to hear. No one wants their fears echoed.

 

“Of course not,” she said. “What else are we going to do, though? I’m going to be fine, Gale. You’re being silly.”

 

He narrowed his eyes at her. He blew out a breath. She waited patiently.

 

“Fuck,” he cursed again, kicking his tire. “Fine. Go.” He pointed at her. “Take your damn phone.”

 

Katniss didn’t bother to remind him that it would be pointless, considering neither of them had service.

 

“Okay.”

 

He read her mind. “I’ll walk around and see if I can get a signal,” Gale said, peering down the road. “Be careful. I hate this.”

 

“It’s okay,” she said, hitting his shoulder. “You’re worrying too much.”

 

“Someone has to worry about you,” he grumbled. “Don’t linger, all right? And don’t talk to any strangers.”

 

That’s the whole point.

 

“Okay, Dad,” she pacified him, watching as he opened the trunk and reluctantly handed her the red gas container. She opened the car door and quickly dug her wallet out of her purse. She hesitated a moment before shoving the pictures into her pocket as well. “I’ll try to be as quick as possible.”

 

“If someone fucks with you, tear them a new one, all right?” Gale called after her. “Be ruthless.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” she replied, walking briskly. “See you soon.”

 

* * *

 

The walk really wasn’t that bad.

 

The scenery was beautiful. She found that once she turned to access the road marked Seam Highway  #1, the tree line grew even more thick and wild with growth. A rabbit scurried in front of her only to hop back into the forest, frantic to get away from such a large predator. A hawk swooped in the distance. A lull of cicadas buzzed around her.

 

Not a single car, though. Or house. Or store. She looked down dubiously at the directions, and then back up the road.

 

She picked up her pace a little, settling into a swift jog as she continued down the narrow stretch. According to Haymitch’s scrawls, she should be coming up on something soon. She tried not to despair, but Katniss began to resign herself to the fact that if she didn’t see a hint of civilization soon, she’d have to turn back and-

 

Wait.

 

She blinked, her eyes widening as she turned at a slight bend in the road and saw what looked like buildings in the distance. A green sign post appeared in the horizon.

 

Hell yes!

 

Encouraged, she launched into a full run, her feet flying across the battered highway. She smiled to herself when she saw the faded words on the sign. Finally.

 

_Welcome to District Twelve._

 

She slowed down as she entered the main thoroughfare, amazed at how the remote wood-lined strip of highway suddenly opened into such a quaint little hamlet, something like she’d seen in pictures of mid-century town life.

 

She was on Main Street, a fact confirmed with a quick glance toward the street sign to her left, and it seemed to be the center of the area, the buildings pushed together like crowded teeth down the row of it. She was relieved to see a few cars parked in the slim, diagonal parking spaces neatly lining the store fronts. The street was so narrow that she realized it had to be one-way, especially on a busy day where all the spaces were taken on either side of the lane.

 

She kept her eyes peeled for people, anxious to see a face, but then she noticed it at the end of Main Street, the front of it curved and glinting with chrome. The diner!

 

She jogged again, and her smile grew even wider when she realized what was in front of the diner. Gas pumps!

 

She could see movement in some of the stores that she passed, and she started to calm down, realizing how tense she had been for the past couple of hours. Since she had entered the goddamn state.

 

“Shit,” she muttered, hesitating as she reached the door to the diner.

 

She was suddenly nervous.

 

 _I haven’t planned this out at all_ , she realized, her fingers closing around the polished handle.

 

What was she going to say? “Hey do you remember me? Or my parents? Also where is this cemetery?” This was a terrible-

 

“Hey there! I’ll be right with you.”

 

Katniss blinked, realizing she had stepped inside of the diner. A cool blast of air conditioning rustled the stray strands of hair that had loosened from her braid. She looked around for the owner of the voice, deep but melodious, an oddly sweet combination for an obviously male counterpart.

 

Her eyes narrowed in on a crouched figure behind the counter, the person’s back turned toward her as he fiddled with the tubing of what looked like an old-fashioned soda machine. She stared at the back of his head, at the haphazard waves and cowlicks, a true golden mess.

 

“Sorry,” the person apologized, standing and turning toward her. “I didn’t mean to-”

 

He stopped. Stared. They both stared.

 

Fuck. He was beautiful. Beautiful. She almost felt as if she were in a dream. Like she was in an oasis in the middle of the desert. There’s no way that this person could exist in this vacuum.

 

“Are you real?” she blurted out.

 

Her eyes grew wide with horror and embarrassment, and she clapped a hand over her mouth.

 

His eyes widened, too, but the shocking blue irises stared at her in surprise and pleasure. He laughed and shook his head.

 

“Who are you?” he asked in wonder, his eyebrows slamming together. “Gosh. I _know_   you.” He cocked his head and leaned against the counter, rocked forward on the heels of his hands. She felt pinned by the intensity of his stare. “Don’t I?”

 

“No,” she replied slowly. “I don’t think so.”

 

He made a soft noise in his throat, and she coughed and straightened. Jesus, she was acting crazy. She felt like she was this close to stripping off her clothes in the diner and launching herself over the counter. Is that what chemistry felt like? Because she hadn’t  felt so alive, so energized, since before her parents died.

 

“I need gas,” she said lamely, holding up the container in her hand. “Our car ran out a few miles back-”

 

“Our?” he interrupted with a curious look.

 

“Yes, my two friends are still there. I decided to run ahead. Madge is pregnant, and I’m more athletic…” she trailed off, realizing she was babbling to this stranger.

 

“You’re definitely in shape,” he praised her, and somehow out of his mouth, the words all coated and buttered in sincerity and lightness, it didn’t come off as a creepy come-on at all.

 

“Please. Tell that to my trainer at the gym,” she laughed, pinching her hip. “If I ate any of those pastries,” she pointed at the glass display case, “I’d blow up like a balloon.”

 

Oh, lord. She sounded like a total idiot. Like one of those airheads that deliberately call themselves dumb and fat for the sake of compliments.

 

“Nah. You’re perfect. In any case, I like a girl with meat on her bones,” he said, his smile just the right amount of wicked and shy. “I’m Peeta, by the way.”

 

Her heart jumped.

 

“Are you flirting with me?” she asked, leaning into the counter.

 

“Nah,” Peeta drawled, the dimples in his cheeks threatening to charm the pants off of her. “I wouldn’t know how to flirt if my life depended on it.” He shrugged lazily, his finger drawing bashful figure eights on the polished countertop. “Maybe you ought to let me practice on you,” he suggested, his lips quirking upward.

 

She smiled back at him so hard her cheeks hurt.

 

“You’re funny,” Katniss said. “I really need to get this gas, though.” She shook the container in her hand. “My friends are probably freaking out right now.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket, confirming that she was still out of signal before shoving it back inside of jeans.

 

Peeta nodded, an expression of disappointment shadowing his face.

 

“Want me to pump for you?” he asked, already crossing from behind the counter to stand in front of her, pulling the jug out her hands before she could answer. Her breath caught at his proximity, and she cursed herself at the reaction to his perfectly innocent question.

 

“I can do it,” she protested, but he was already walking out of the side door, whistling to himself as he pumped the gas into her container. She sat on a bar stool, the red leather squeaking beneath her as she slid onto it, watching in appreciation as he completed the little task for her.

 

He carefully sat the container outside of the door, and a small bell rang when he walked back inside, the noise tinny and rustic.

 

“We’ll just leave it there for now,” Peeta explained. “You can get it when you leave.” He bit his lip when she jumped down from the stool and stood to face him. “You’re not leaving right this second, are you?”

 

“Um.” She glanced up at the clock, a vintage, cat-shaped thing with ticking eyes. “Well. I can stay a little longer. Then I have to start walking back.”

 

His eyes brightened. “I can drive you.”

 

“Really?” she asked doubtfully, her eyes sliding to the left.

 

“Sure!” Peeta said, his voice eager. Very eager.

 

“Don’t you have to work?” Her forehead creased with the question. “Who will watch the store?”

 

“My parents own the place,” he said with a shrug. “And the town is small. All I have to do is put a sign on the door, and it’s all good.”

 

“Hmm.” Katniss frowned, a question forming in the back of her mind, plumes of smoke condensing into thoughts. “I appreciate it, but...”

 

“No?” His jaw tightened.

 

“Please don’t take it the wrong way,” she rushed out. He dropped onto one of the gleaming stools and looked down at the floor. “It’s just, you’re a stranger, you know? You don’t even know my name.”

 

“Oh!” he said, looking back up at her earnestly. “That was rude of me. I guess it just seemed like- I don’t know. This sounds weird, but it seems like we’ve known each other a long time.”

 

Katniss nodded slowly.

 

“You feel it too, don’t you?” Peeta pushed, his eyes intense.

 

She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment before digging into her pocket. “This is going to sound even weirder,” she said, pulling out the small photo. “And I’m probably way off base, but…” She held out her hand to him and waited.

 

Peeta looked at her outstretched palm, his face confused before clearing in shock. He stared up at her and then back at the photo before settling on her again, his gaze raking over her face hotly.

 

“That’s me,” he said, his blue eyes wide and stunned. “And you.”

 

“Oh my god.” Katniss sat down heavily beside him.

 

“I remember you.” His finger traced their faces in a continuous loop. “You’re Katniss.”

 

“You remember me? My name?” she asked, her mouth dropping. “Just from the picture? We’re so little.”

 

“Of course.” He sounded hurt and something else. His foot bounced up and door on the bottom of the stool, and his hand shook slightly. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

 

Katniss shook her head, dazed. “I never expected to actually find you here.”

 

“Why didn’t you come back?” he demanded suddenly. “You just- just _left_. Never came back.”

 

“I-I don’t know,” she stuttered in return, recoiling slightly at force of his words. “I was just a kid. I didn’t have a choice. My grandparents died and my parents-”

 

“Your grandparents didn’t die,” he interrupted her. "Not then, at least. They died just last year.”

 

“What?” she asked, shocked. She had family all this time? And her parents never told her? “But my parents said they died years ago, and that’s why we never came back to visit.”

 

Peeta stood up and ran a hand through his hair, walking to one of the large windows.

 

“Your grandparents ran the pharmacy. Right down there.” He pointed down the street. “Your family ran the only pharmacy in town for generations.”

 

Katniss dropped her feet to the ground and stood on shaky legs, walking over to stand next to him. She looked out the window toward the building he was pointing at, Lovewright Pharmacy barely visible over the slats of wood that boarded up the facade of the store.

 

“No one took over?” she asked, her hands on the pane of glass as she stared. It felt chilly against her palms, and goosebumps broke out over her flesh as she squinted out the window.

 

In another lifetime, she could be in there, running the front counter and being a part of an honest-to-god legacy instead of perpetually set adrift, the empty loneliness a constant companion. She felt a stab of anger at her parents for the first time since their deaths, and the dark emotion was almost a comfort, the charged fury spackling the pitted-out holes of grief wormed into her heart since they left her. She had grandparents, and they hid them from her.

 

Peeta shook his head. “No.” He jerked his head toward a smaller room that she hadn’t noticed before, wringing his hands. “We sorta did. Just basic medications. The clinic a few miles away handles everything else.”

 

“That must be hard,” she said gently, laying a hand on his arm. “You seem like you have a lot of responsibilities here.”

 

He looked down at her hand, and she withdrew it hastily, blinking when he caught her fingers with his.

 

“It does get lonely.”

 

They stared at each other, fingers knotted and tangled together, an electric current running up her veins. She breathed, almost panting. His eyelashes fluttered.

 

“Katniss.” Her name was slow and easy on his tongue as he reached up to stroke her braid.

 

“Mmhm?” Her eyes shut at the feather-light feel of his touch.

 

“You being here,” he said, “is a miracle.”

 

His hand left her braid to trail down her arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. She flinched when he carefully turned her wrist, exposing her scarred forearm to his solemn eyes. She pulled away, a self-conscious reflex, but he only grasped her fingers again and brought them to his lips, pressing his mouth to the back of it, the old-fashioned gesture both charming and seducing her in equal measure.

 

And then they were kissing, hands everywhere, fingers in her hair, his tongue, warm and slick and insistent in her mouth, a little inexpert but so good as their bodies swayed back and forth with the intensity of their kisses. He whimpered a little, and she felt herself coming unraveled at the little sound, her hands sliding to his hips and pulling him closer. God it was good, good, so good-

 

Her eyes popped open when he sucked her tongue into his mouth and bit down. She pulled back and gasped. “Sorry,” he murmured, his eyes lidded. “Sorry.” He pulled her back to him and gentled his lips, pressing little pecks to her mouth.

 

“This is insane,” she moaned, her fingers clutching at his shirt. Her tongue hurt. “We have to stop.”

 

“Why?” he asked, his eyes flashing as he drew back. “You were my first kiss, you know.”

 

She gaped at him.

 

“What? You remember that?”

 

“I told you,” Peeta said, his nostrils flaring. “I remember everything.”

 

_Meow. Meow. Meow._

 

Katniss jumped, startling as the cat-shaped clock cried out in a pitiful whine, the noise stretching thin and reedy, the old machine in need of a change of batteries. She looked at the time and frowned. Peeta followed her line of sight and shook his head. 

 

"No," he protested, correctly reading her intentions. "Not yet. Not _now_."

 

“I- I'm sorry,” she said, smoothing her hands down her jeans, feeling frantic and harried. She touched her lips helplessly. "I have to go. I really do."

 

“But-” He stopped, his face crumpling. He looked around the restaurant a little desperately. His fingers flexed at his side. “You just got here. I have so much I could show you.”

 

She thought about the church in the other photograph, and slowly dug the other photo out of her pocket.

 

“Do you know where this is?”

 

He stepped closer, his hand closing over hers as he brought it closer to his face. His eyes sparkled with recognition before glancing back at her. “Yes! It’s pretty run down now. No one has used it in years,” he explained. “But it’s pretty close to my house. I can take you there.”

 

She hesitated. “My friends-”

 

“Your friends will be happy, yeah?” His eyes pleaded with her. “This is what you came all this way for, isn’t it? To get answers. To find family?” He touched her arm.

 

“Wait.” She looked at him sharply, her eyes wide. “Do I have anymore family here?”

 

His answering smile curled at the edges. “Sure. They’re around,” he reassured her. “I’ll take you. I’ll show you everything.”

 

“Well...” she replied slowly, feeling overwhelmed at this sudden turn of events. Family. An old friend. Her first kiss? She felt her face burn as she touched her lips, her eyes flying to meet Peeta’s, this strange boy who was looking at her as if she hung the moon and the stars just for him.

 

“Yes?” he asked gently, taking her hands in his.

 

She made a split second decision, ignoring the anxious churning in her stomach.

 

“Okay.”

 

* * *

 

She shifted in the truck’s passenger seat, her eyes roving restlessly as they pulled out of the back parking lot. Her fingers tapped against the gasoline container between them, and she felt a little bit of comfort at the barrier. She felt guilty for wanting that wall, for feeling those slivers of unease dripping coldly down her throat, because Peeta was just so damn _sweet_.

 

He had rushed to close the shop, turning the ‘Open’ sign to read ‘Closed.’ After refusing payment for the gas, he ushered her out the door gently with one warm hand on her lower back, careful to open the passenger door and give her a lift up into the tall vehicle.

 

He had even buckled her into the seat, explaining that it was tricky to maneuver, and easier if he just did it for her. Her shirt had ridden up a bit, and his fingers brushed her stomach as he pulled away, the calloused pads softly stroking across the exposed skin. She jerked away, an involuntary gesture, but he had just smiled at her and shut the door.

 

But now it was silent in the truck, his face blank as he carefully pulled onto the old road that she had walked not even twenty minutes prior. She was never one to fill a silence with small talk, but she felt the pressing urge now.

 

“Thank you for doing this,” she said, brushing an errant strand of hair from her eyes.

 

Peeta looked at her, his expression a little troubled. “It’s no problem at all.” He blew out a breath. “I just wish…”

 

“What?”

 

“That things were different. That’s all,” he said, his eyes turning sad.

 

“How so?” she asked, confused.

 

“You know. That you were staying.”

 

She blinked. her eyes sliding away in surprise, watching out the window as the trees filtered past. “Oh.”  

 

“I just wish I could get to know you again, that’s all,” he rushed to explain, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. “We don’t get many new folks around here. And you...we were friends. My only friend, really. Other than Dad, and my brothers.” His expression grew darker. “And Mama.”

 

A crackle of static echoed in the truck. “Peeta?” came a muffled voice.

 

Katniss startled. “What’s that?” she asked, looking down at the center console.

 

“Ah. My CB radio,” he explained, looking harassed. He glared down at the device, his expression fierce. He looked like a stranger.

 

_He is a stranger._

 

They approached the turn that would take them to the main road, and Katniss found herself anxious to see Gale and Madge. She strained to peer around the stretch of the forest’s treeline that paralleled the road, but Peeta sat idling, his hand fumbling for the radio when it crackled to life again.

 

“What?” he spoke into the handset, the word loaded with tension.

 

“Got ourselves some roadkill out on the main highway. We need you to do a clean-up.”

 

Peeta stilled, his hand frozen on the steering wheel.

 

“Peeta?” the disembodied voice repeated, sounding impatient. “Get your ass out there.”

 

“Fine,” he replied lowly. He slid his eyes toward Katniss. “Signing off.”

 

He turned the truck off of Seam Highway #1, and she watched as Gale’s SUV came into view in the distance.

 

“There we go,” she said, unable to stop the relief from coating her words. Her smile wilted at the edges when she saw that the car was empty as they pulled up next to it.

 

Peeta had barely stopped the engine before she jumped out, jarring her knee a little as she landed harshly on the uneven concrete.

 

“Gale?” she called out, spinning around in confusion. “Madge?”

 

“Katniss,” Peeta said, one hand jammed into his pocket, the other clenching something white.

 

She ignored him, pulling open the SUV’s doors and peering inside, her expression baffled.

  
"What the hell?” she said slowly, seeing Gale’s wallet and cell phone in the cup holder. "Where are they?"

 

She turned around and met Peeta’s even expression.

 

“Where are they?” she repeated, turning in a circle like a dumb animal. 

 

He opened his mouth, but the CB radio crackled again.

 

“Peeta,” the voice barked. “There’s another girl. Find her, goddammit. She can’t have gotten too far.”

 

The world stopped spinning. She saw white, and pieces slammed together into a puzzle she didn’t even realize she had been playing. The car, the roadkill, this stranger. Gale and Madge, where the fuck-!

 

She turned, and ran. She would always remember that moment, because it was the mark of a coward.

 

Her legs pumped, and she breathed through her nose as she heard the clumsy, heavy steps behind her.

 

“Stop-” Peeta was yelling, but she tuned him out, weaving into the forest to her left, because she knew the forest. She knew nature. She could get away if she disappears into the trees-

 

But she fell, thick arms wrapping around her waist as she collapsed to the ground, Peeta’s heavy weight on top of her as she landed face first in the dirt. She flailed and screamed, useless horror movie motions as her nails reached out behind her to scratch, to dig, to kill, but he was too strong. He was too fucking strong as he flipped her onto her back.

 

“Please,” she begged, kicking again, but he secured her to the ground with the practice ease of a hunter.

 

“I’m sorry," he said, pressing a white cloth over her mouth and nose, and she thought he was suffocating her, that he was killing her, but she found it to be a surprisingly pleasant way to die as she fell into darkness.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my beta, Shannon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very dark conclusion. Trigger warnings for abuse, non-con, and a ton of disturbing behavior.
> 
> Take the warnings seriously, please.

Katniss woke up and immediately wished she hadn't. It wasn't like the movies; there wasn't a reprieve for contemplation. No breaks, no call for mercy, no barrier from the   horror she felt upon opening her eyes and looking into the calm blue ones of the boy staring back at her.

Her head was groggy, and she felt the inevitable train of a migraine rolling down the tracks. The pain was almost too normal considering her arms were bound above her head and attached to the headboard of an unfamiliar bed. Peeta's bed, from the look of it. She took  a moment to look around the room. That's what she should do, right? She needed clues, she needed a weapon,  _she needed_ —

"Well, hey there. You feeling alright?" he asked, crouching down beside her. His hair looked like it had been freshly brushed, and it gleamed underneath the bare lightbulb that hung from the center of the ceiling. He brushed her forehead with his hand as if feeling for a fever, and his finger trailed along her cheek, his eyes bright. "You were out for longer than I expected. Guess I dosed you with too much chloroform. Trichloromethane. Encyclopaedia Britannica, eleventh edition. Volume C." He patted her head, his expression almost proud. "You were a fighter."

She screamed.

Peeta laughed and stood, ambling over to a tray by the door. He fussed with a bowl, tapping glass salt and pepper shakers over it for a moment too long before carefully walking back her way. He pulled up a wooden chair that looked as if it were a century old. It creaked when he lowered his solid form onto it, and the sleeve of his red cardigan dipped into the bowl, staining it a dark maroon.

"Open up," he said. "Beef stew."

She shook her head, her shoulders shaking. "Please," she said, the words bubbling out like a sob. She pulled on the restraints binding her wrists, and the threads of the thick rope scratched the scars on her skin. "Please, let me go, please—"

Peeta sighed and stirred the soup, a heavy cloud of steam rising from it. For the rest of her life, stew would smell like misery.

"If you get all worked up, you'll lose your appetite. Trust me—" his lips stretched into a smile both winsome and terrible, "you'll need your strength." He spooned some soup out of the bowl and held it to her lips. "It's fresh."

She started to cry. Katniss had seen too many movies, read too many books, and spent too many years watching the news to be naive to the fact that she's likely to die in this pale green room with faded, striped wallpaper. She choked on a sob when Peeta wedged the spoon into her mouth. She sucked in a hot, spicy broth with small chunks of meat and root vegetables, then coughed it out, soup and tears pouring down her chin and onto the white, chenille bedspread covering her prone body.

"Stop that," he said mildly. "You're  _going_ to eat." He brought the spoon to her mouth again, and this time she allowed it to pass her shaking lips. If she was going to die, it wasn't going to be by choking to death. Not voluntarily. "There!" He sounded pleased, watching with careful eyes as she gradually forced down the entire bowl. "Not so bad, is it? It's an old recipe."

"Are you going to kill me?" she whispered, staring up at him. Her whole body started to tremor when he didn't answer, and her skin was a cold thing pulled tightly across her bones. She couldn't believe that only a short while ago, she was kissing this person.

He stood suddenly, his back to her as he pulled a napkin from the dinner tray. He came back and dabbed around her mouth and neck, cleaning the wasted soup from her skin.

"I don't think so," he said. His blinked at her, his eyes blank and hazy. "No, I don't think so." His gaze sharpened. "But you shouldn't have left, Katniss. That was very bad."

She flinched when he leaned over her. He gave her a chiding look before rubbing the thick scar on her wrist. His fingers trailed down the underside of her bicep, skipping across her short sleeves and travelling across her neck. His palm landed over her heart, and when he pressed down, she could feel it beating in her goddamn throat.

She screamed again, violently yanking on her restraints. Her back bowed off the bed. She knew it was fruitless to struggle, she knew, she  _knew_ , but she had to get away, she couldn't  _breathe_ —

Peeta lifted his hand from her breast.

"Are you comfortable? I can get you another pillow," he asked as if she weren't having a breakdown. He pulled a pillow from a chest at the end of the bed and positioned it behind her thrashing head. "Oh, Katniss." He stood back and looked at her in disappointment. "Stop fighting. I'm not letting you go."

"Please," she begged, and she felt the rope cut into her scar tissue with a wet rip. She barely registered the pain. "Please, please, untie me."

"Stop  _fighting_ ," he commanded her, the first signs of irritation cracking his unflappable shell. "You're just hurting yourself." He touched her bloody arm with a fingertip and licked the wetness away with the pink curl of his tongue. "I'm not letting you go. I want to trust you, but—you'll run." His eyes took on a faraway look. "They all try to run."

She closed her eyes. She wasn't the first one. She probably wouldn't be the last. She was going  _to die_.

But then he spoke again.

"We were friends," he said. He sat on the chair again and loosened the rope around her mangled wrist, sliding it away from the ruined skin. She jolted in shock when he licked her wrist with gentle swipes of his tongue, cleaning her. "I want to trust you," he repeated, pulling back with red lips. "But you ran once. You and your  _bitch_ mom. She took you away." He smiled. "But now you're back, and you'll never, ever leave again."

Blood loss and shock combined into a powerful narcotic, and as she slipped into unconsciousness, Katniss hoped she never woke up.  

\------

She blinked and gasped, her eyelashes batting against soft cotton and her breath echoing back into her mouth. Her heart started to beat faster when she realized that her face was covered by her shirt, and the cold air pebbling her nipples meant her bra was off.  _He had taken her bra off_.

A grunt came from somewhere to her right, and then she felt sticky warmth covering her chest. No. No, he didn't. He  _couldn't—_

Her shirt was pulled away from her face, revealing Peeta's flushed cheeks and sated eyes. He buttoned his khaki pants and stared at her still-exposed stomach.

"You're all dirty now." He traced a finger through the cum curdling on her crawling skin. "Time for a bath. I'll draw you one." He disappeared into a door on the other side of the room, and then she heard the sound of running water. When he turned, he was whistling a chipper, off-key tune under his breath.

"You came on me," Katniss said, numb. She felt as if she were looking down at herself from very far away.

"You need a bath," he repeated, carefully untying one of her wrists.

"Stop—"

He froze her with one single, blank look. The blue irises she had once considered to be so pretty now sparkled with the flat promise of death.

She swallowed.

"Please...if I take one, if I listen to you—will you tell me how my friends are?" she begged, her head falling back onto the pillow with a soft, anti-climatic thump. "Tell me, are Madge and Gale here? What are you going to  _do_ to us?"

He regarded her, his lips pursed. "You can see them after your bath." He hesitated before working on the knot securing her other wrist to the headboard. "If you're good. Don't try anything funny," he warned.  She felt dizzy when he pulled her to her shoeless feet, and she stiffened when he reached down to unbutton her jeans.

She felt rage replace the numbness.

"I don't want a fucking  _bath!_ Don't touch me!" She shoved him and twisted under his arm. He faltered, stunned by her outburst. She wondered how many of his victims had ever surprised him, but then again, he said they ran. They all ran, just like her, but she'd be different. She was going to get away.

She was airborne before she knew it, Peeta's large, muscular arms wrapping around her from behind and dragging her toward the bathroom.

"I told you," he said calmly, carrying her as if she weighed no more than a sack of flour. "I told you to listen."

The warm, humid bathroom was simplistic, boasting only a sink, toilet and a clawfoot tub with steaming water. Her eyes grew wide as they approached the tub, and she kicked out just once before he dropped her into the water, fully clothed. Her head surfaced only to be ducked back under again, and she had a few weightless, terrified seconds to contemplate death by drowning before she was pulled free from the water.

Katniss sputtered, sucking in a lungful of air, bracing for the inevitable return to the scalding depths below—but it never came.

"You done?"

She stared up at him, wincing when his hand wound through her hair with casual brutality. He would have no problem sending her back down into the water. Despite whatever fascination he held for her, Katniss also knew that he wouldn't hesitate to drown her like a kitten in a barrel if pressed. She had to calm down. She had to play this  _smart_ , even if her whole body was screaming otherwise.

"Yes," she said, her head dropping back against the porcelain tub. "I'm done."

"Stand."

She reluctantly did as he asked, enduring his hands as he stripped her of her clothes. Then he pushed down onto her bare shoulder, his fingers lingering  there after she had sat back down in the now warm water.

Katniss pulled her knees to her chest, stiffening when Peeta ran a bar of soap over her back.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said, soft and conversational. "I really don't. But you have to be sweet. You have to listen, and you have to cooperate. Otherwise,  _they_ won't like—" He paused. "Well, my family isn't as nice as I am."

Christ, his  _family_. It was a stark reminder that there were more people in this house, people who were just like him. She shivered, dread running up her spine.

She endured the rest of the bath, Peeta's hand staying in fairly respectful places. He pulled her out of the tub and ran a worn but fluffy towel over her body with brisk, strangely detached movements. When he left the bathroom, she allowed herself a small piece of hope that was dashed only moments later when he returned with a dress that was a glorified baby doll's costume. It was a sunny yellow, beribboned thing, with layers of lacy underskirts that would fall mid-thigh on even her shorter form.

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him to fuck off, that she would rather die than wear it, but she pressed her lips together so hard she almost drew blood. She wondered who owned this dress before her. She swallowed the shriek clawing at her throat, thinking of some girl buried in a shallow grave somewhere, naked without her fancy party clothes.  

She put on the dress under his pleased, watchful eye. She was not allowed underwear.

"Sit," he said, pointing to the wooden chair he sat on earlier.

Katniss lowered herself down hesitantly, flinching when he touched her wet hair, running the strands through his fingers. Soon, the bristles of a brush replaced his hands, and then he was weaving her hair into a tight braid. She stiffened when he placed a kiss on top of her head but held in a scream.

She was proud of that restraint.

"We're going downstairs now," he informed her, moving to stand in front of her. Then he crouched down to her eye level, and she wondered briefly if she could gouge her thumbs into his beautiful blue eyes. Cowardice and something else, something sick and lingering, held her back. She told herself it was the fate of her friends that stopped her from lashing out again. Yes, it was easier that way.  

Peeta smiled as if sensing her murderous thoughts and grabbed her hands, squeezing them in his own. "Like I said," he continued, his grip growing tight and painful. "They're not as nice as me, but they're family. Just don't run that smart mouth, okay?" His brought their clasped hands to her mouth, and he run a thumb across her bottom lip. "They're not gonna be as fond of it as I am."

He took her by the hand and led her out the bedroom door, and she noted how he unlocked it with an old-fashioned key that he pulled from a ring in his pocket. She would have to get close—very close—to ever get access to that key ring.

The hallway was just as old-fashioned as his bedroom, with creaking wooden floorboard slats, faded paisley curtains in the picture window at the end of the hall, and sturdy side tables with pleasant knick-knacks on top. She noted three other bedroom doors and swallowed when laughter resounded up the stairs from the first floor.

She stopped at the top of the stairs, and he turned to look at her over his shoulder.

"Come along."

"I'm scared."

"Relax." Peeta exhaled as if she exhausted him. "I won't let anything happen to you," he said, his voice flat. "You're my responsibility. No one's gonna touch you but me." He rubbed his jaw. "So don't give me a reason to have to hurt you for them."

"What about Gale and Madge?" she blurted out, stepping closer to him. "Please, just tell me they're okay. I'm—I'm  _worried_  about them. Are you really going to let me see them?"  Katniss swallowed, vulnerable as she all but admitted that she thought he was tricking her.

"Do you like them better than me?"

"W-what?"

He closed the gap between their bodies, his hand tugging on the bottom of her braid. It would be a playful gesture if executed by anyone else, but instead it's an ominous pull, a hint to the swirling emotions behind that deadpan face.

"Do. You. Like. Them. Better?" he sounded out. "You were my friend first.  _Mine_."

"No," she stuttered. "No, Peeta. I like you best."

He stared at her, searching her eyes. "Come along," he repeated, gentler this time as he lead her down the stairs.

The metallic taste of fear and adrenaline filled her mouth as they cleared the stairs and stepped into a short hall. Her eyes flitted longingly toward the front door, a heavy thing that looked as if it had stood the test of time over at least a century. From what she could gather from her very brief view, it was an old farmhouse.

They followed the voices coming from the living room, and as they entered the space, she did a double-take.

Three blonde, attractive people stood in the room, and when their heads swung her way, she expected to see something monstrous reflecting back from their faces. Instead, two men with undeniably similar features to Peeta smiled at her with charming, pleasant expressions. The woman's eyes were colder, her lips pulled back into something closer to a sneer than a grin, and she appraised Katniss with sharp eyes before rolling them away, clearly finding her lacking.

"Hi there. I'm Daniel, Peeta's father," the older man said, stepping around the couch and approaching her. "And you look...just like your mother."

The words rolled around in her brain in a lazy spiral before fully hitting their mark.

He knew her mom.

For a split second, she relaxed, and Katniss stared back at this man who might be connected to her. But then there was a scream, a familiar one, and she jolted.

"Oh god," she said, her hand covering her mouth. "What are you  _doing_ to her? Don't hurt my friends!"

Mr. Mellark looked back at her with those same pleasant but now blank eyes. Now devoid of his initial fascination, she saw him as an empty cold husk like the woman standing next to him.

His wife rolled her eyes again. "Those two were too difficult. Hardly worth it, if you ask me."

"I disagree," said the younger man. He turned toward Katniss and offered a wolfish smile. "I'm Rye. Thanks for bringing around such prime offerings. Things were getting a little light around here."

 _What?_  

Her eyebrows furrowed together.

"Rye," Peeta murmured beside her.

Katniss turned toward Peeta, pleading and shaking her head. She grabbed his arm, and he stared down at her fingers. "Help them, please."

He slowly lifted his eyes and gazed back at her impassively. She whimpered and spun in a circle, facing his family. She dropped to her knees in front of them and clasped her hands.

"Let us go," she begged, her heart in her throat. "We won't say a word. We'll leave and never come back. I promise, we'll never tell."

Mr. Mellark smiled at her, like she was a silly thing.

"Oh, honey," he said, his voice as patronizing as a pat on the head. "I know you won't."

"Madge is pregnant!" she cried, desperate.

That time, it was Rye who pinned her with a bored expression. "Your point?" His lips quirked up at the corners. "Seems like a bonus to me."

"You're monsters." Her voice shook, and Mrs. Mellark just laughed.

"How far along is she?" Peeta asked, giving his mother a cold look while addressing his brother.

"Hm." Rye looked contemplative, and then gestured to his stomach, making a widespread sloping move with his hand. "Pretty far. She's looking kinda ripe."

"So, maybe we can keep her around a little longer," Peeta suggested, looking at Katniss with a pleased little smile, as if he were doing her a favor. He pulled her up by the hand. "At least until the baby is born." Three blank faces stared back at him, while she just felt faint. "It's another human," he added, matter-of-fact. "We can fatten it up."

Katniss sucked in a breath.

No.  _No_.

She thought about the soup she had eaten earlier, and the little chunks of seasoned meat, slick and oddly greasy, and promptly vomited all over the clean, wooden floor.  

The men looked at her with wide eyes—Rye and Mr. Mellark with a dull sort of surprise, and Peeta with a hint of concern.  

She wiped her mouth and started to cry.

_They ate people._

"Oh, for Christ's sake," Mrs. Mellark said. She stared down at Katniss with horror, and if she wasn't sickened and terrified, she'd laugh at the irony of this woman staring at her with disgust. "You're cleaning this up. Every  _last_ drop, young lady! You're going to clean this mess!" She stomped off toward the kitchen and returned in seconds, throwing a tea towel with cheerful ladybugs onto the floor, a bottle of solution clattering behind it. "Get down there!" She pushed on Katniss' shoulders until she was forced to her knees.

" _Okay_ ," Katniss sobbed, her hand blindly reaching for the towel.

"You're too slow!" Mrs. Mellark shrieked, slapping the back of her head. "You're ruining my house! You disgusting,  _filthy_ , little mess maker!"

"Mother," Peeta said, his voice sharp. He grabbed the older woman's hand in mid-air. "Stop."

"She's already becoming a problem." His mother glared at him and then down at Katniss, who was rubbing a constant, looping circle on the floor. "Mind my words, boy. I have no problem getting rid of her." She turned and looked at her husband, her eyes narrowing. "I don't care who she is. Whose  _daughter_ ," she sneered. She swung her head back toward her son. "Control your pet."

Peeta tensed and pulled her up by the elbow. "She's not your concern. She's mine."

"Wow. All right," Rye broke in, clapping his hands. "Things are getting a little tense. Why don't we let Katniss go down and see her friends? Since Peeta is so dead-set on keeping her around, I think she needs to start understanding some things. Maybe this will, uh,  _drill_ the point home, ya know?"

"Inappropriate," his dad said, shaking his head at Rye. "I don't think she should see her friends just yet—"

A man appeared through a doorway across the room. His blonde hair was brushed back perfectly from his forehead, and though he was clearly older than both Rye and Peeta, he had the sort of unlined, youthful face that boasted no laugh lines or creases at his eyes, an unhappy coldness radiating there.

"Friend," he corrected, wiping his gloved hands on his white butcher's apron. Red streaks were left behind in their wake. His blue eyes, a duller shade than Peeta's, met her grey ones. "I'm Bran. You must be the one  _they—"_ he jerked his head toward the staircase behind him, "—have been screaming about." His eyes rake over her. "You're not very big, are you? Or especially pretty."

"That's rude," Rye said.

Katniss covered her mouth again, her legs buckling beneath her. Strong arms wrapped around her, stopping her fall, but then Peeta was dragging her through the door at the top of the stairs leading to what looked like a basement, and she shook her head violently back and forth.

"Have fun, sweetie," Mr. Mellark said cheerfully. His wife waved at her with a brittle smile, and they turned toward the kitchen.

"No!" She threw her arms out at the sides, the stairwell narrow enough that she could brace herself. "I'm not going. Peeta," she sobbed, hysterical. "I can't. I  _can't_. I don't want to go anymore!"

"This is what you asked for," he reminded her, his lips close to her ear. "Stop fighting or you'll tumble down the stairs." He picked her up anyway, easily tucking her under his arm as he cleared the stairs two at a time.

She closed her eyes, squeezing them shut and counting to five. She thought of nice things—of butterscotch and sunshine, of the forest in summer, the scent of evergreens—

Her feet hit the hard floor, and her eyes opened on their own accord. If Peeta's arms hadn't been around her, she would have toppled over. It took her a moment for her brain to catch up with her vision, and her mind started shutting down to protect herself.

"This bitch has been wailing for an hour," Bran said from behind her, disgusted. "Can I waste her yet? She's practically dead as it is."

"Nah. New plan, " Rye murmured back. "We're keeping the baby."

" _No_ ," Katniss said, the word thick on her tongue. She didn't know where to look.

Maybe at Madge, strapped down to a table, her eyes closed and her face slick with blood, her blonde hair practically black with it. Her shirt was off, leaving her protruding stomach bare, her blue bra obscene under the glare of the basement light. Her mouth was covered with duct tape, and it was clear she was sobbing beneath it. The wooden walls were stained with age, and there were shelves lining every spare inch of it, canned goods and glass jars filled with vegetables and  _things_ , neat labels with brisk handwriting explaining that this was a jar of liver, this one  was  _hearts_.

Or maybe she should look toward the bloody tools on metal tables, power saws and a drill speckled with red, or a trough that was black with stains. Or maybe, maybe, she should look at Gale, hanging from a hook, he's hanging from a goddamn  _hook_ and he's not moving—

"Stop screaming!'

"Make her stop, Peeta. Jesus Christ."

Oh, that was her. She was screaming.

She wrenched out of Peeta's grasp and ran toward her friend, whose torso was mangled and flayed, exposing a gleaming rib cage.  _Not Gale, no, not Gale._

She grabbed his legs, once so strong but now limp, just dead weight. She tried to lift him, to move him from that terrible thing through his back, but she couldn't make him budge. She thought about the last time she saw him, standing there among the sun-dappled trees, looking at her with concern and love and worry, so she tried again. She pushed up with all of her weight and felt a tearing pain in her shoulder, but she pushed forward anyway.

"C'mon, Gale," she begged, her shoulders shaking. "Help me, please. Please, don't be dead,  _please—_ "Exhausted, she fell to her knees and dropped her forehead to the floor.

Katniss heard a keening cry beside her, and she knew that Madge realized her husband was gone.

"This is truly fucking pathetic," Bran said with a sneer. "Maybe we should just put the girl out of her misery. It'll be kinder." He looked at his younger brother with reproachful irritation. "She's never gonna make it here."

"Shut up." Peeta gave him a look twice as deadly as the hacksaw on the table beside her. He walked over to Katniss and pulled her off the floor, brushing her dusty knees and arms with his disdainful fingers. "Don't even think about it." He wrapped his arms around her from behind, her back to his chest, forcing her to face his brothers. She just wanted to go to sleep and never wake up. "She's one of us."

Rye looked at her with a doubtful expression. "I dunno, Peet. Do we really want another—" he sent a nervous glance toward their older brother, who picked at his nails with a gleaming pocketknife,"—Delly situation?"

"Who's Delly?" Katniss asked listlessly, her voice dead. She felt as if she were wrapped in a thick layer of cotton, and everything was shiny and unreal.

Rye sucked on his teeth and studied the wall behind her.

"Ah. That was Bran's wife." Peeta's arms tightened around her waist. "Not a very good one. Don't worry, you'll be different. So much better."

"But I'm not your wife," she said, choking out of the words. Peeta's brothers exchanged amused glances.

"Oh, Katniss." He dropped his chin on her shoulder and nuzzled her neck. "You will be."

 ------

She flexed her wrists, listening to his family drone on with mindless, idle chatter. The weather, the water level of a nearby pond, and a washed out road a few highways away.  _So normal,_  she thought, a hysterical laugh bubbling in her throat. She listened in a dream-like state as Mrs. Mellark told Rye that he'd be on diner duty tomorrow.

"Why can't Peeta do it?" he complained, frowning. "It's his turn to mind the store this week."

"He's busy, obviously." Bran smirked, eyeing her. His eyes lingered on her chest for an uncomfortable moment, and her lips quivered. "Something tells me he'll be otherwise engaged for a few days."

A tap on her shoulder drew her attention.

"Eat," Peeta said quietly, holding a spoon to her mouth. More stew.

She jerked her body to the side, but her bound wrists and ankles wouldn't move more than half an inch away from the chair she was tied to. "No."

He pushed the spoon inside her mouth, and she gagged, spitting out the chunks of meat. She swallowed the broth and cooked onions instead. The survivalist inside of her knew she had to eat to stay strong, to have any chance to escape and save Madge, but the soup kept crawling back up her throat. She wished she never knew what was inside of it. Ignorance would have been kinder.

"I'm sorry," Peeta's father said, turning his attention to her. Brown broth dribbled from the corner of her mouth, and Peeta wiped it away. "We're being impolite! Katniss, it's so good to have you back with us. I remember when you were just a tiny thing. Your grandparents would have loved to have seen you."

Katniss stiffened at the mention of her family, so thrown off that she didn't struggle when Peeta shoveled another spoonful into her mouth. She swallowed it because he left out the meat, and promptly hated herself for feeling a shard of gratitude for that small bit of grace.

She took the bait. "You knew them?"

"Of course. We know everyone in town," he laughed. "It's...small. A very tight-knit community. You'll see."

Mrs. Mellark snorted, looking at her oldest son. "Doubtful," she murmured to him.

Her husband ignored her. "They were great people. I know they missed Layla," he said, his face turning sad. His wife shot him an annoyed look. "We all did. Was a shock when she took off with your dad." His face darkened. "He was from another town a little ways away. He met her on a hunting trip, and then—you came. So your dad moved here, and they lived with Layla's folks while you were small."

"Were they like you?" Katniss asked in a whisper, too horrified to censor herself. Peeta put a hand on her shoulder in warning. "Did they...did they eat..."

"If you're asking if they ate our meat," Mrs. Mellark said bluntly, "then yes. They weren't uppity little bitches like you."

"Mother. Stop."

She glared at Peeta. "So ungrateful, eating our food and judging us!"

"Pretty much everyone in town does," Rye added helpfully, slurping from his spoon. "Eat our  _produce_ , I mean. You may have noticed that we lack certain amenities in Twelve. We're the only store or diner within miles and miles. I think ol' Haymitch about an hour down the highway is the closest food depot."

Katniss jerked her hand toward her neck, wincing in pain when she was stopped by the rope around her wrist. She wanted to touch the bird necklace the old man had given her, a reminder of a life outside of this hell. Her stomach dropped at the memory of the man's warning. He told her not to come—he had  _warned_  them, but she hadn't listened, so arrogant and determined she was to find out about her cursed fucking family.

She had as good as killed Gale herself. She grew numb with the knowledge that it was her fault.

"You're disgusting," she said faintly, swallowing back bile. "All of you."

"What would you have us do?" Bran demanded, dropping his spoon inside the bowl with a loud clatter. "This state is dying. This whole fucking district, the surrounding areas—we're  _dead_. We were abandoned by the outside world. The government doesn't care about us. They left us to our own devices after using us for our resources, and once we were tapped out, they left us here to fend for ourselves." Katniss looked away from the intensity of his stare. "So yeah, generations of our families—yeah, you can wipe that look off your face, little girl.  _Your_  family was no better than ours—the ones who stayed, who didn't have anywhere to go? They did what they had to do."

"And they grew a taste for it," Rye said, his face turning dreamy as he chewed. "It stopped being a necessity. Now it's just  _good_." He showed her his tongue, and her stomach turned.

Peeta slipped another spoonful through her lips, and it dribbled down her chin when she refused to swallow. "Your mom," he started, glancing around the table, pinning his family with his eyes. "Your parents didn't, though. Develop a taste for it. That's why they left. And took you." He grimaced and clenched his fist.

"History lessons are over," Mr. Mellark bit out, his pleasant expression gone.

The air grew stagnant with only the sound of silverware scraping bowls, and Peeta broke the silence.

"I'll show you the house your mom grew up in," he said, almost eager. As if he wanted to please her. "Like I promised. And the church in the picture."

His mother made a noise in the back of her throat. "She's not going anywhere." She pointed a spoon at them. "Not until the girl learns her place."

Peeta smiled.

"Don't worry," he said, smoothing a hand down her arm. "She will."

Katniss felt impending doom fill her veins and spit out another bite of soup.

\------

Peeta took her back upstairs after dinner, and as they walked toward his room, she silently prayed that Madge would stay strong until she could figure out a plan. She knew that she had two choices: go out in a blaze of glory, provoking his family until one of them killed her, or play possum.

She recognized the look in Peeta's eyes as they walked into his room. She knew what he wanted—Christ, he considered her his  _wife_. As psychotic as he was, there was a small piece of humanity inside of him that felt some sort of lust and affection for her, something that compelled him to keep her alive rather than slit her from throat to belly.

Katniss had to exploit that. She had to listen to him and do some things that she made her skin crawl just at the thought of it. So when he pulled a white, silk nightgown from his closet and ordered her to strip, she obeyed with shaking hands. She lifted her arms without complaint when he slipped the gown over head, shivering as the material brushed her naked skin beneath.

He stared at her, and then pushed her backwards until she sat on the bed with a clumsy fall.

"You had a hard day," he said, running a finger across his mouth.

"Y-yes," she stuttered, her heart beating faster.

"I want to make you feel better." He looked at her with naked hunger, one of the more human expressions he'd had since she first met him back at the diner. "If you'll allow it."

Katniss couldn't contain a bitter laugh. She crossed her arms over her chest and shivered. "Now you're asking what I'll allow?"

"I want it to be good. I don't want...to force you." Peeta looked everywhere but at her, pulling at the sleeve of his shirt. It dawned on her that he was anxious. He toed off his shoes. "You didn't like what I did earlier. I—I want you to like  _this_." He blinked a few times, his face contorting as he peeled away his socks. "I've never done this before."

She stared back at him and reeled. He was a  _virgin_. And he was nervous. She felt a strange mix of emotions but willed rage to come to the surface  _because how dare he play on her sympathies_. He wanted her to feel like this, to betray herself and feel endearment. It was all part of the sick manipulations of this insane family.

Peeta had probably fucked a thousand girls, all buried somewhere in their backyard, and she was wearing one of their nightgowns.

"All right." Katniss hardened her heart and softened her expression. She undid the chain around her neck, and let the little bird drop into her palm. She squeezed it once before laying it onto the side table. "I'll allow it."

He exhaled. "I want both of our first times to be good," he said, unbuttoning his shirt. .

Christ. And he thought she was a virgin, too. She breathed through her nose, wondering if he would lose it if he knew she'd slept with a handful of guys before him. He couldn't even handle her having other friends. This was going to be...God, this was going to be a nightmare, and she'd be lucky to make it out alive.

He folded his shirt carefully and placed it on the side table. His body was pale but too nice for a serial killer, and she was angry for noticing his defined chest. Peeta's hands moved to his pants, and he stopped in clear surprise when she leaned forward and unzipped them, dragging both the slacks and his boxers down in one move.

"Oh," he said, naked before her.

She flushed at his arousal. He wasn't small, and she fervently hoped it wouldn't hurt her, because there was no way she could get wet for him.

He plucked at the strap of her gown, and she lifted off the bed long enough to let him peel it back off of her. Part of her reveled in his mystified expression as he stared at her body, shadowing her utter terror.

"I...have to tie you," he said, sounding almost apologetic. "Lay down."

She swallowed and tried for seduction. "Please," she said, reaching out a hand and brushing his thigh with the back of it. "I want to touch you." Her fingers crept toward his erect cock, and she enclosed it in her fist.

He closed his eyes, his mouth dropping. His hips jerked when she gave him a hesitant stroke, but then he shook his head. "No," he said. "I'll touch you." He pushed her back with gentler hands, and she let him go, reluctantly reaching behind her. He quickly secured her to the headboard and then straddled her, looking overwhelmed.

"Please," she said, her heart racing furiously now that she was naked, bound and helpless. "I—just don't hurt me. I'll do whatever you want, willingly. But don't..."

He erection brushed her thigh as he leaned over and cupped her breast, his thumb tracing light circles around her nipple. His eyes grew wide with fascination when it pebbled beneath his ministrations. "I'm not like them," he told her, dragging his gaze from her chest. He searched her face. "My brothers, I mean. I never touched any of the girls that came through. I could have." His face darkened. "You're the first. The last," he murmured, and then his lips closed around her nipple.

She bit her lip, her back arching. That felt  _good_. And so, so wrong. She shouldn't have felt a hot, electric zip running through her body. He looked up at her, his eyes take in her flushed cheeks. He slid a hand down her body and touched her between her legs, his fingers stroking her mound.

"You can touch me," she forced out, waiting for inept, painful prodding. She was shocked when his finger trailed up her outer lips and then circled her clit. She let out a genuine moan, jerking when he stroked the nub lightly and then increased the pressure, his mouth still pulling on her nipple.

_No! That's not how this was supposed to happen!_

He entered her with a finger, and then lifted his head, his expression almost clinical in satisfaction.

"You're wet," he murmured, a stunned sort of surprise in his voice. "That's good. That's supposed to happen." He laid his cheek on her chest and slid his finger in and out of her lazily. She could feel him leaking from the tip of his cock onto her leg. "That's what the book says."

He stopped suddenly and lifted himself above her on his arms. "I'm going to put it in now," he announced, his voice shaking. "I'm—I have to do it now or I'm..."

"I understand," she said faintly. "Go ahead, Peeta."

He struggled for a moment and then thrust all the way home. It was criminal, the ease in which he slid inside of her. She was that wet. She wondered about her body's betrayal as he pumped inside of her, his face slack with enjoyment.

It was all of thirty seconds later when he stiffened with a loud grunt, his hand balling into a fist beside her head as he came inside of her. She had never been more thankful for a birth control shot in her life. As for diseases—she could only hope he wasn't lying about being with other girls, but if his quick performance was any indication, he was definitely a virgin.

"That was..." His voice trailed off, and he looked down at her with hazy contentment. For a moment, he was just a boy. "I didn't know. That it was like that." His deceptively handsome face glowed with a faint sheen of sweat. Peeta stared down at her, speechless, and then he kissed her. It was long, chaste and sweet, and he cleaned her up with a tissue from the bedside table. She tensed, waiting for him to call her out for the lack of blood, but he didn't say anything. He seemed to be in his own world.

"Did I hurt you?" he finally asked.

"No."

"I wish I could untie you." He cuddled into her side, his voice wistful. He stroked her shoulder, the one she pulled when she was trying to lift Gale—no, she couldn't think about that now. She  _wouldn't_ , or she'd lose her mind.

"Me, too," she choked out, swallowing a scream.

Peeta buried his face in her hair and wrapped an arm around her waist. "Katniss?"

"Yeah?"

His breath evened, like he was falling asleep. "Your friend..." He sighed, his breath warm against her neck. "He didn't really suffer. He died quicker than most."

Then he was out.

\--------

"What happened?" he asked, laying on his side and looking at her wrist.

She blinked up at the ceiling. The morning light streamed through the window, and her stomach growled with hunger. Such a disturbingly normal bodily function. Just a regular day after having sex with a childhood friend-turned-murderer.

"I tried to kill myself," she said flatly.

"When?"

"After my parents died."

"Oh."

There was so much judgement and confusion in the sound that she wanted to laugh.

"I'm sure that's hard for you to understand," she said, struggling to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. He kissed her neck, and she shivered. "The pain of losing someone. Fear of death."

"Yes," he said simply. "You're right. I can't imagine doing that because someone died. Even my family—I'd feel...something. Loss, but..." There was an apologetic shrug in his voice. "Death is nothing to me." He ran a hand down her arm, and she could see his erection growing underneath the sheets.

Then he rolled on top of her.

\--------

After taking her again for a second, clumsy time, he took her for a walk down the hall, sitting in a chair and watching as she wandered back and forth, giving her legs a workout. When the sound of someone walking up the stairs reached her ears, she darted back into his room voluntarily.

She collapsed on the bed, shivering violently.

"Poor thing," he crooned, stroking her hair.

\--------

"I need to go to the bathroom," she said, catching her breath. She felt him leaking out of her and twisted, her sweaty skin cooling on his sheets.

"You always go after I come in you," he said, collapsing beside her. "Can't we just lay here? Like the first time? It's...nice." The words were awkward coming from his mouth, and she could tell that he had never said something like that in his life.

"I don't want to get an infection." Understanding dawned on his face, and she knew that later he would go digging through his outdated textbooks and encyclopedias for more information. Katniss wiggled her fingers and grimaced. "I need to pee."

Peeta frowned. "I'll untie you."

She breathed a sigh of relief as the feeling came back into her hands. She stood up from the bed on shaky legs and walked toward the bathroom, stretching as she went. Katniss could see Peeta's reflection in the dresser mirror while he watched her naked ass, and she was stunned by how much he resembled a harmless college boy waiting in a dorm room.

Oh, how looks could be deceiving.

She didn't close the bathroom door, because she had learned the hard way that he'd follow her in if she tried shut him out. Katniss sat down on the cold toilet and drop her head in her hands. She was exhausted, physically and mentally. They had barely left his room for the past three days, even going as far as to eat their meals there. Once Peeta had discovered the joys of sex, he became obsessed with her and the act.

It was probably his most normal preoccupation, and the worst part was that he was getting good at it. It was easier when she could imagine that he was forcing her, that she was silently suffering through his clumsy attentions. But now, he could wring an orgasm out of her that no other partner had even come close to matching.

The first time he made her come with his tongue, she had cried. Peeta only licked her tears away and did it again, that time with his cock and fingers. Once he realized he could master her body, he was a like a puppy with a chew toy, intent on making her squeak as often as possible.

"Why are you upset?" he had asked after, playing with her hair.

"Because I don't want to feel good," she sobbed, too wrung out to lie. "My friend is dead. Madge is...I can't think about it."

He regarded her with solemn eyes, not quite sympathetic but...something.

"Do you want to see her?"

So that became her reward for being a good little doll and allowing Peeta to have his way with her. He took her downstairs and stood at a respectful distance while she cried and petted Madge's hair. She fed the pregnant girl broth, wracked with guilt.

Madge didn't speak—she couldn't.

Her tongue had been cut out.

And Katniss had felt like the worst sort of person for being more terrified that it would happen to her than outraged by Madge going through hell instead. Oh, how she had clung to Peeta, practically attacking him when they went back to his room, and he had stared at her with wide-eyed wonder and confusion when she climbed on top of him and rode him with her hands tied behind her back until he was calling out her name.

"Katniss?"

She looked up and saw Peeta staring at her from the bathroom doorway.

"Sorry," she said. She waited a moment, but when he didn't move, she sighed and started to pee. She had no dignity left.

She wiped herself and flushed the toilet, and when she washed her hands, he stood behind her and kissed her neck.

"I like watching you," he said, and she could feel him hard against her back. "I want you again."

She nodded and let him lead her to the bed. He hastily tied one of her wrists to the bedpost, and her eyes widened when he left the other one free.  _That was a first_.

She wouldn't take advantage of it, though. Not yet.

"Wrap your arm around me," he grunted, spreading her legs and thrusting into her with one smooth stroke. "Kiss me."

So she did, letting the fantasy of a loving boyfriend wash over her as Peeta fucked her, her hand in his hair and her lips on his as he stared down at her. She closed her eyes, but they fluttered open a moment later when Peeta licked her eyelid.

"Look at me," he demanded, doing something new with his hips that had her crying out. "I want your eyes."

The door opened and Katniss gasped, turning her head in horror when Peeta's mother appeared, a silver tray in her hands. Peeta grabbed her chin and tilted her face back toward him. He never broke rhythm, and the only sign that he noticed his mother's presence was the annoyed crease lining his forehead.

"You've holed up in here long enough," Mrs. Mellark said sourly. The tray landed the side table with a sharp, metallic clatter. "You need to give the girl a rest before you break her. Jesus, son."

"Oh my god," Katniss whispered, her face crumpling when Peeta increased his thrusts. He wasn't going to stop.

"Come," he told her, reaching between them and rubbing her clit in the way she liked. "Stop holding back," he grunted as if his mother wasn't in the room.

"You've lazed around enough," Mrs. Mellark said. Her footsteps drew closer to the bed. "You have work to do. There's some tourists out on the highway. Car broke down." Katniss could hear the smirk in her voice. "Go get them."

"Why,  _ah_ , can't Bran or Rye go?" he grit out, burying his head in Katniss' neck. "I'm busy."

"Because they're at the store. Because  _you're_ our little snake charmer. Your brothers lack...a certain finesse. You know that. So put on your goddamn happy face and go pick us up some meat."

Katniss stared up at the ceiling as Peeta's hips jerked erratically, a sure sign he was moments from coming. She couldn't believe that his mother was just standing there, watching—that Peeta didn't stop her. She exhaled when Peeta finished inside of her and then rolled off to the side.

She felt eyes boring into the side of her face and pulled the covers over her naked body with her freed hand before turning with reluctance to meet his mother's stare. The other woman's eyes lingered on her untied wrist with a sneer before she raked Katniss' face with a cold look.

"I want grandchildren," she bit out, then turned and left.

Katniss laid there in shock. It shouldn't have affected her after the untold trauma that she had experienced in this house of horrors the past four days, but she couldn't stop shivering. Peeta's mother watching them have sex was  _too fucking much_.

Peeta was oblivious to her mental anguish as he climbed over her and pulled on his clothes, a soft, tuneless whistle coming from his lips as he slipped on his shoes.

"I'll be bac—"

"That can't happen again," she interrupted, her voice rising hysterically.

Peeta looked at her as if  _she_  were insane. "What?"

"Your mother! Your goddamn mother watched us having sex, and you didn't— you didn't even  _stop_."

He blinked at her as if she were a mystery. "Okay. She won't do it again," he said, his tone soothing. "I'll lock the door from now on. Okay?"

Katniss looked away.

"Okay?" he repeated, fussing with the collar of his shirt.

She nodded in defeat, her chest rising up and down with anxious, gasping breaths. She was so fucked, because it  _was_  okay. It sounded fucking  _okay_  that she would be locked inside his bedroom with him. It occurred to her that she was well and truly done then, because the alternative of being exposed to his family was so disturbing and terrifying that she would welcome him with open arms.

He turned toward the door, his hand on the knob. He paused and then turned back around, walking her way with brisk steps. He knelt down on the floor beside Katniss, and he touched her face with hesitant fingertips.

"I'm not normal. I won't ever be," he said flatly. "You have to tell me when something—when something isn't right to you. I can't fix everything. But I'm trying. For you...I'll try."

She stared at him.

"I used to watch them," he continued, not meeting her eyes as he reached for her bound wrist. He fussed with the knot. "Bran and Delly. When I was younger, he'd let me sit on the bed while he loved her. I would touch myself and..." He looked at her quickly. "You know. On her."

She was speechless.

"I didn't touch her," he rushed to explain. "Sometimes Rye watched. My father, too. They—well. It...it's what I know," Peeta said. "But I'll never let anyone watch you again. And no one will  _ever_  touch you. I don't...I don't like sharing you. Any part of you."

The rope fell away from her wrist, and she blinked in surprise.

"Eat while I'm gone. Go to the bathroom." He jerked his head toward the side table, where two sandwiches on fresh bread waited on a white plate. "I won't be long. I promise."

"Okay," she said faintly, overwhelmed.

He stood and looked at her for a moment, uncertainty on his face. "I'm trusting you," he said, turning and walking out the door, locking it behind him.

She laid on the bed for a moment longer, part of her frozen with disbelief that she was actually free to walk around on her own accord. Not wanting to waste any more of this precious alone time, she swung her feet onto the floor and sat up, bouncing lightly on the bed before standing. She grabbed her nightgown from the dresser and slipped it on.

Katniss cocked her head, but all she heard was silence.

She turned toward the window and carefully analyzed it, noting that it easily unlocked with a simple latch mechanism, but she didn't dare test her luck by lifting it open. There was a large oak tree with a limb that was just barely within jumping distance from the window. Katniss stared out into the backyard, counting in her head how many running strides it would take before she cleared the long stretch of land and entered into the vast tree line beyond.

She sighed and turned away, mindful of the time. Peeta promised he'd be back soon, and though he was many things, a liar he was not; he hadn't lied to her once.

Katniss didn't know where to start now that the sky was the limit. She started opening drawers, digging through Peeta's socks and shirts, careful not to disturb them in an obvious manner. She figured he knew she would look around, but she didn't want to flaunt it. She opened his closet and looked for something that could be used as a weapon—a baseball bat, the sharp edge of a ruler,  _anything._ Ten minutes passed, and she rocked back on her heels, disappointed with his bland and meager possessions. But then a box at the top of the closet caught her eye, and she climbed onto a bottom shelf to reach it.

She pulled down the dusty hat box, and sat on the closet floor with it between her legs. She pulled the lid off and narrowed her eyes at the contents.

"What is this?" Katniss murmured, unpacking the items one by one.

A few crayons. A charm, but no bracelet. A handful of drawings clearly made by childish, inexpert hands. Folded notes.  _Pictures_.

She set the photos into its own little separate pile, eager to return to them. She reached back into the box and retrieved the last item, a thick folder with a Capitol City logo on its nondescript white cover. She furrowed her eyebrows at it before picking up the pictures again.

The first one was of her. It was undeniable. She was sitting on an unknown lap and blowing out birthday cake candles.

The second was of her and Peeta, and—Rye? She let out a disbelieving laugh at the image. She and Peeta were on a swing set, maybe four years old, and an older blonde boy with devious eyes stood behind them. To the untrained eye, it would look like he was pushing them on the swing, but her gut instinct told her he was trying to push them  _off_.

She was kissing Peeta's cheek in the third. He was chubby and round and innocent. She wondered when that look had left his eyes. How long after her mother and father had taken off with her? She wondered what would have happened if they had taken Peeta with them. Would he have gone to college? God, he was so  _smart_  and thirsty for knowledge. It was tragic that he had never had the chance to develop into something more than a gentle monster.

She clenched her fist and mourned the little boy in the photo. He may as well have died.

Katniss carefully set aside the photos again and reached for the folder. She paused, a feeling of foreboding washing over her. Then she flipped it open and started reading.

It was a report from Capitol City on  **Peeta Mellark** ,  **age ten**. She didn't understand all of the terminology, but  _antisocial disorder_  and  _sociopathic behavior_  jumped out at her in technicolor. She read an account from a homeschool teacher, detailing how Peeta had dissected a dead armadillo in the corner of the church yard while the rest of the children played during recess.

She was so absorbed in her reading material that she didn't know she had company until the closet door hit the wall. She jumped, tunnel vision narrowing her line of sight to just Peeta standing in the doorway, illuminated by the light of the room. He stared down at her, and she scooted backward until she hit a neat line of shoes that were pressed against the closet wall.

"I'm sorry," she said, her hand shaking.

He looked at her a long moment and then stepped forward. "We were home schooled. A handful of us District kids," he said blankly. "I think I told you that. It was only until I was eleven or so. We bounced around from house to house. Sometimes the church. Once the old crumbling rec center out near the closed mill. Then Mama pulled me out."

He nodded to the folder in her hands. She let it drop to the ground.

"Some grown ups from Capitol City came through with their fancy cars and clothes. They wanted to test us." His voice lowered, and his hand balled into a fist at his side. Peeta creeped closer. "My parents didn't like what they had to say about me." His lips twitched. "I didn't see the Capitol folks again after that."

"Please," she said, her voice shaking when he loomed in front of her.

Peeta sighed and slid down next to her, his leg touching hers. She held her breath, not wanting to smell death on his skin; when she finally inhaled, he only had the clean scent of sunshine and sweat and boy.

He stared down at the piles in front of them before thrusting his hand toward the stack of kid drawings. He looked down at the crude likeness of an orange cat before handing it to her.

"This one is my favorite," he said, matter-of-fact. She saw her name scrawled in the corner.

_2 Peta. Lov K A T N I S S_

The involuntarily smile that formed on her lips froze when she saw what Peeta had left behind—a red, bloody smear from his thumb.

\---------

"I laid a dress out for you," Peeta said, coming into the bathroom and sitting on the edge of the tub.

She looked up from her book and frowned. "Why?"

"It's time to leave the room."

Katniss marked her page and carefully placed the book on the bathroom floor. She knew that she couldn't hide in his room forever, but the thought of leaving the relative safety of it made her feel as if the wind had been knocked from her already battered sails.

"But we've left before. To visit—"her voice faltered, "—Madge."

Just thinking about her friends was enough to send her into a panic attack. Yesterday, she had watched from the window as they had disposed of the last of Gale's remains, the pitiful scraps going up in smoke as they tossed them on a burn pile. They must have been making room for the newest victims that Peeta had fetched.

She had cried so hard at the parody of a funeral that Peeta had left the room. He didn't return for over an hour, and when he did, it was with a dish of homemade, vanilla ice cream. He force fed her spoonful after spoonful as tears streamed down her face, his expression angry, like he couldn't comprehend her emotions.

"This is different." He skimmed the surface of the water with his fingers and then flicked it, beads of water splashing her in the cheek. She flinched when one of the droplets landed close to her eye. She opened her mouth to snap at him and realized—he was playing with her. Lighthearted teasing. She closed her mouth. "Our presence is being requested downstairs." He gave her a significant look. "To the basement, where the new arrivals are. They want you to be a part of the process. To see what it means to be a family."

She held her breath and ducked under the water, opening her eyes and staring at her blurry thighs. She could use a break from Peeta and his rigorous demands on her body, but she wasn't ready to face his family. They were worse than him—while all were unpredictable and highly unstable, at least he seemed to care about her in some way. Rye and Daniel, Peeta's father, tolerated her with a distant sort of fondness. But when she had passed Bran or Mrs. Mellark on her way down to see Madge, she had sensed nothing but cold, forbidding hostility.

Katniss had no doubt that if they could catch her alone, she'd be on the burn pile next.

She felt herself being pulled to the surface, and she came up sputtering.

"Don't do that, Katniss," Peeta said roughly.

"Why?" she asked, feeling contrary. She stood from the tub and stepped out of it. Peeta toweled her off, glowering at her the whole time. She crossed her arms over her naked breasts, resentful of his help. "Are you afraid I might  _die_? Imagine the irony! Because you're sending me to the wolves right now, Peeta."

"Watch your attitude. They're my family," he said sharply, tugging on her hair hard enough to sting. "Yours too, now. They aren't going to hurt you. When will you understand that?"

She scoffed and walked into the bedroom, angrily pulling on the sparkling dress that was draped across his—their—bed. She held her arms out and waited for him to zip and tie the back of it. She felt like a petulant child as he calmly pulled the zipper up its teeth, and slowly pulled the silk ribbons into an elaborate bow.

"I don't want to go," she said again, her voice breaking. "They're awful. Why do you even care about them? The things they did to you...with Delly—you were just a child—"

"You're not going to turn me against them," he said patiently, his hands smoothing down her hips. "That's not why I told you about that."

"You told me to tell you when something wasn't right to me! Going down there and watching while you butcher innocent people? It's  _not right_."

"Katniss," he said, turning her around and running his fingers through her wet hair. "Accept your life. Or don't. But you're not going anywhere."

She turned her face away, and he held it in his hands, holding her stare.

"Where exactly do you think you're going?" he continued. His eyes dropped down to her wrist, his eyes lingering on the jagged scar there. "You weren't happy in your life before me." He lip curled. "For a girl who tried to kill herself, you're awfully concerned with your well-being now."

She sucked in a breath. "Fuck you," she said before she could contain herself. She cringed, waiting for the repercussions.

Instead, he just looked at her with a solemn expression. "You're cute." He let go of her face and grabbed her hand, running his thumb over her scar. "If you had been with me, if you had been here, this wouldn't have happened." He leaned in and kissed her lips. "You were lonely, weren't you? I know you're hungry for a family. For a place."

She looked at him sharply.

"You have that here, with me. With us." He walked toward the bedroom door, pulling her with him. "You'll see."

So she went downstairs, crossed the living room, and then descended to the basement, holding her breath like she did every time. Only this time it wasn't just her and Madge, staring at each other in silent misery while Katniss despaired over the innocent, fatherless baby in her friend's stomach, frantically wishing she could discuss her escape plans.

The entire family was there, including Mrs. Mellark who sat on a stool in the corner of the room, her arms crossed primly across her chest. Madge was strapped down to her table as usual, only ever allowed up to use the filthy basement bathroom—except once, when Katniss had talked Peeta into letting Madge walk around the room.

There were also joined by two men, late teens by the look of it. They were hanging from hooks in the same place that had once housed Gale. One was dead; the other was not, but most likely wished he were.

"Watch this!” Rye said, and bashed the young man in the head with a hammer.

"Jesus Christ," Katniss whispered, covering her mouth. She backed up and landed against Peeta's chest.

"Rye likes to play with his food," Mr. Mellark said, apologetic as he took a scalpel to the chest of the dead one while Bran looked on with an impassive expression. "Here, Peeta. Help me."

Katniss stood by Madge and grabbed her hand, closing her eyes while the family went to work on the men. Any progress Peeta had made with her flew away as she watched him slice into the body of the freshly dead boy with uncaring detachment.

She looked down at her friend's lifeless eyes and leaned down, whispering into her ear.

"Be ready," she said, determination filling her heart. Her eyes flitted to Madge's stomach. "I'm getting us out of here, Madge. I promise."

The girl looked back at her, sadness eclipsing the hope in her eyes.

\----

"Peeta," Katniss panted, arching her back. "Let me touch you, baby. Please."

He paused, his lips freezing at her throat. He pulled back to look into her eyes, his face slack with desire. "I don't know—"

" _Please,"_  she whimpered, staring at him beneath her eyelashes. "I need to feel you."

He exhaled sharply and studied her face, his erection hard as diamonds against her abdomen as he hovered over her. "All right," he muttered, quickly releasing her wrists. "I want you on top again," he said, rolling them over so that she was above him. He grabbed her hips and impaled himself, and she steadied her hands on his chest, marveling at the freedom. Peeta's eyes closed and his mouth dropped open when she started to bounce, his hands cupping her breasts. She hated how good it felt, how for just a moment she was tempted to just stay there, to stay with him and let the moment ride out—

But no. She couldn't.  _This was her chance_.

She should a quick prayer and grabbed the lamp on the side table while his eyes were closed, and then she brought it crashing down on Peeta's head. She leapt off of him and grabbed her nightgown, frantically pulling it over her body and sliding on her old sneakers so fast she almost slid across the floor. She reached into Peeta's pants pocket and pulled out his key and thrust it into the door lock, her hand shaking so badly she almost dropped it.

"Fuck," she whispered when the door opened with a creak so loud she felt as if the moon could hear it.

She paused, her head turning against her will to look at Peeta, his body so still she wondered if he were dead. Blood leaked from his head, and she felt angry at her concern.

She shut the door and locked it behind her, glancing down the hall in terror at the closed bedroom doors. Then she was off, taking the steps three at a time and landing on the first floor with a running start. She reached the basement entrance and then froze, her heart dropping to her shoes.

There was a yell, because  _Peeta was up_ , oh jesus,  _he was already UP she should have_   _killed him_ —

She ran down the basement steps and saw Madge, who turned her head to stare at her in shock.

"We're going," Katniss said, running to her and pulling at the straps on her arms. "Madge, we're leaving, okay? You just—we have to be quick—" Her voice shook, terrified because Peeta and his brothers would appear any second.

"Nawh," Madge rasped out in an unintelligible, choking noise. "Nawh, Kah-ne."

"I'm not leaving you," Katniss sobbed, trying to make her stand. "Please."

Madge shook her head frantically, pointing at the ceiling, where frantic pounding of footsteps were resounding below. Then she winced and patted her stomach, shaking her head again. She pointed to a small, narrow section of windows that were ground level, leading to the yard.

" _Go_ ," she mouthed. " _GO NOW_."

There was a terrible pause.

"I'll get help," Katniss said, her voice catching. "I swear, Madge." She backed away and then ran, climbing a shelf. She was moving on pure adrenaline then, and when the window gave way under shaking fingers, she finally believed in God. She squeezed her tiny frame through the window and didn't look back.

She ran, counting as she approached the treeline. She felt a burst of joy as she entered the thick forest, praying that it would shelter her as she escaped. Her mind became clear as she raced through razor sharp tree limbs and jumped over stumps. She didn't know how long it would take to reach a road, but she knew where north was, and that was roughly—

It was a slow-motion type fall, and the type of thing she hated horror movie scream queens for. She landed on her hands and knees and frantically scrambled to jump back to her feet. She sunk into the squishy ground, and she realizes with horror that she was standing in a grave site. There were at least a dozen sunken plots with crude crosses marking them. Only two were labeled. One was the mysterious Delly.

The one beside her read  _Baby Mellark._

Katniss ran again, twice as frantic, her legs and arms pumping furiously. She had to get away. She had to reach safety. Her life depended on it. Madge and her baby were depending on her, and they couldn't end up like Delly. Like  _Baby Mellark_ —

There was a terrible crack, and then came an excruciating pain unlike anything she had ever felt or imagined could exist. It took her a minute to realize that it was her own bone that made such a noise, and then she was falling forward, her body twisting to accommodate her trapped limb.

 _A goddamn animal trap_.

She screamed, agony racing through every nerve in her body. She clutched her stomach and pressed her face into the dirt, sobbing when she heard heavy steps crunching leaves and debris.

_Game over._

"Oh, Katniss," Peeta said softly, dropping to his knees beside her. "You're in a mess."

The world went black.

\----------

_"Katniss," Gale says. He sits across from her in a meadow they used to play in as children. "Katniss, you have to wake up."_

_She rolls a dice onto black spikes of grass. Snake eyes._

_"I don't want to." She squints into the sun and sees Madge's too bright face there. "I want to stay with you."_

_"You can't." He gives her an unbearably sad smile. Blood wells at the corner of his mouth and drips down his shirt. It's blue and white, a checkered pattern. Peeta's shirt. Gale takes a bite of chicken, his mouth splattering blood onto the meat. He eats it. "It's too late. Wake UP—"_

Her eyes popped open.

The first thing she noticed was the pain. Everything else was secondary. She knew it was bad because her bound wrists and the two men sitting at the end of the bed were just tertiary characters in her terrible story arc. Her leg felt as if it were packed with molten glass, and she wished she were dead.

"Look who's awake," Rye said, his eyes flat as he stared at her over Peeta's bowed head. The soft, smoky voice of a 1930s crooner floated from a record player on the side table, grating on her strung-out nerves. "About time."

"Welcome back," Peeta murmured. He was hunched over, his hand patiently moving something over her leg. No,  _into_  her leg. He was stitching a jagged, seeping wound together with a sewing needle.

She blinked and moaned, her mouth dry as cotton. "Please," she croaked. "It  _hurts_."

"Good," Rye said coldly, crossing his arms. "You've been laying here for days, enjoying a nice little holiday."

"Rye," Peeta said. "Give her another shot of morphling."

"What? No way. We've already wasted too much of the good stuff on this bothersome runaway. "

"What's...morphling?" she asked with difficulty, a cold sweat breaking out on her skin.

Rye sneered. "A little of this. A little of that." In his anger, he resembled Bran more than Peeta. "It's the moonshine of mountain medicine."

"You popped your stitches while you were...out," Peeta said, ignoring Rye. He didn't lift his head to look at her. "I doubt you remember it—the brain has a way of forgetting these things. But you were in a lot of pain. More than now."

Rye poked her leg, and she gasped, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes and spilling onto her cheeks.

"If you're not going to be helpful, leave," Peeta told him, looking up for the first time.

Her eyes widened at the purple, blue-black wound spider-webbing from his temple and across his forehead. His right eye was swollen in the corner, and his cheek was puffy.

Katniss had done that.

"I told you we should just amputate." He gave Katniss a sly, ruthless smile. "Not much meat on those bones, but it would have probably been kinder than this."

Her head dropped back against the pillow, and she gritted her teeth, terrified that she almost agreed with Rye. Right then, she just wanted the suffering to end.

"You're scaring her."

"Good!" Rye glared at his brother and stood, pacing from the door back to the bed. "The little idiot ran. And she tried to kill you. I swear, Peeta. You're blinded by puss—"

"No," Peeta interrupted calmly, threading the needle through her skin once more. Then he tied off a small knot and broke the remaining string with his teeth. "She tried to escape. If she wanted to kill me, she easily could have." He met her eyes for the first time since she had woken up. "Isn't that right?"

She moaned and nodded, ashamed as sweat poured down her face. She failed. She failed in escaping, she failed to kill her tormentor—her captor. She deserved what she got.

"How romantic," Rye said with a sarcastic clap of his hands.

"Now we're even," Peeta said, looking into her eyes. "Because she will never, ever try again. Right, Katniss?"

His brother scoffed and rifled through a small bag, pulling out a syringe and drawing back the plunger. "It's not like she'll get anywhere." He shoved the needle of the syringe into a vial and pushed the plunger. He gave her knee a rough pat, and she screamed at the pain. "That leg is fucked for life."

There was a sharp stab in her thigh, and then came the blessed warmth of numb relief pulsing through her veins.

"Sleep," Peeta said, crouching beside her and touching her cheek.

"Madge," she slurred, her eyes heavy. "How is she?"

Her lashes fluttered shut, and Peeta's cool palm brushed across her forehead.

"Madge is dead."

\----------

_"Duck, duck, goose," Madge says, tapping her on the head. "You're it."_

_Katniss falls backward onto a flaming pile of wood._

_"I'm burning," she cries. Her skin melts from her skull. "Help me."_

_"You left me to die," Madge sneers. "Silly goose." She opens her mouth and releases a baby's shrill cry ._

She startled awake, frantic with a sick feeling in her gut. She'd gone through a never-ending cycle of nightmares for days, periodically waking to be fed or helped to the bathroom in a painful, traumatizing process before being injected with the sweet relief of morphling.

"Shhh," Peeta said from beside Katniss, pulling her sputtering body toward him with one arm. He was sitting next to her on the bed, and her wrists were free. Her leg was rigid and strapped to a slim wooden board, a makeshift splint. There was no need to tie her to the bed any longer.

Like Rye had said, she wasn't going anywhere.

"Morphling?" she pleaded with her eyes closed, hungry for the relief. The blissful, hazy ignorance.

"No more of that," he said. There was a strange, squeaking noise, and she opened her eyes into slits. "You've had too much as it is. But—here."

She gave a dry cough, confused and groggy when something warm and squirming was placed into her arms. She peered down at a pink-faced baby, who blinked up at her with wide, blue eyes.

"We're gonna keep her," Peeta said softly, running a finger down the baby's little nose. "I saved her, for you."

Katniss pulled her eyes away from the small thing and stared at him, uncomprehending. Her whole body trembled.

"We can be a family. You, me and her. I think...I could be a good dad, I think." His arm tightened around her. "You just have to help me. Okay?"

Katniss gave up. There was no more fight left in her. She held the baby to her chest and dropped her head.

"Okay," she said dully.

\-------

Katniss limped into the kitchen, following the scent of garlic and onions. She'd been napping with Lily and had woken up in a panic when the solid weight of the baby was missing from her chest.

"There's your mommy," Mrs. Mellark crooned from the table, holding a bottle to the baby's mouth while Mr. Mellark watched with a fond smile.

She and her husband had traveled three hours away to Capitol City and returned with a truckload of supplies such as formula, diapers and toys, some of which they restocked the store with, but most they brought home and stored for Lily. They treated the baby as if she were their real grandchild, much to Katniss' dull shock.

Katniss hadn't felt much of anything in well over a month. First it was because of the morphling, but Peeta had cut her off a few weeks ago after an initial, hellish weaning period where she had succumbed to night terrors, cold sweats and bouts of horrible body pain that was just as excruciating as her broken leg.

Her leg was mostly healed now—possibly as good as it would get, without the proper medical attention from a doctor. Peeta said he'd take her to the clinic a few districts away once she could be trusted again, but she knew that the attention her poorly mended bones needed was far too advanced for anything Panem had to offer.

She didn't think Peeta was too torn up about it, and maybe it was for the best. Katniss' ruined leg was as good as any handcuff or rope—her running days were over. She had full reign over the house and even the yard, but going outside made her feel sad. And she didn't want to feel at all.

She would save all of the meager emotions in her dead heart for Lily, an innocent seven-week-old baby who would need Katniss to help her in this fucked up world.

"Are you hungry?" Peeta asked from the stove, turning to look at her. He had on a striped apron that said 'Kiss the Cook' and was holding a pink spatula, the kind that supported breast cancer awareness. She wondered where he got such a thing. Maybe some family moving from one side of the country to the other had made the unfortunate decision to take a detour through Panem, and their box of kitchenware ended up here while their bones were buried in the flowerbed. "I'm making stir fry."

Katniss paused in the middle of the room. His parents stared at her, waiting. Peeta had been making her cheese sandwiches and stewing garden vegetables for the past few weeks, a vegetarian's diet.

She was tired of fighting. There was no point. And she was  _hungry_.

"I could eat," she finally said and sat at the kitchen table.

Peeta plated a dish of the stir fry and placed it in front of her, putting the fork in her hand. He poured a cold glass of water and added a sprig of mint from a pot she had been tending in the windowsill.

She stared down at the plate, the scent of spiced meat and the starchy aroma of cooked rice wafting from the china. The food blurred together, and she exhaled. She brought a forkful to her lips, hesitating for only a moment—then she ate it.

It was good.

"How's the meat?" Peeta asked, rocking back on his heels. "What it seasoned okay?"

She looked up at him, her mouth full. "It's perfect," she said dully.

His parents exchanged a long, pleased look before glancing back at her. She gave them an empty smile and ate another bite.

"I think you should go out today," Mr. Mellark said, taking the baby from his wife. "We'll watch the kiddo for you. Take a break! Peeta, you've been minding the store for weeks now while Katniss is here with the little one. Spend some time together." He winked. "Show her the sights."

Katniss stared at Peeta, who shrugged.

"Sounds great," he said, looking back at her with raised eyebrows. "What do you think, Katniss? How about I finally show you around your parent's old stomping grounds?"

She hadn't been in the outside world for almost two months. She should have been more excited, but instead only felt a mild sense of curiosity. But she'd like to feel the sunshine on her face, maybe.

So they kissed the baby goodbye and climbed into Peeta's old truck, rumbling down the highway while Katniss glided her hand through the open wind, letting the wind catch her cupped palm.

"The church first? Or your mom's old house?"

She hummed to herself. "Mom."

A moment later, he pulled off onto a dirt road that climbed a steep hill. The truck stopped in front of a split-level, clapboard house with yellow shutters. The yard was overgrown, and there was a tire swing hanging from an oak with a crooked trunk.

“Don’t you want to get out?” he asked.

“No.” She stared at the empty house, trying to imagine her blonde, sophisticated mother rocking on the crumbling porch. “I’ve seen enough.”

He waited a moment longer and nodded, backing all the way back down the driveway and then heading back down the desolate road.

The silence between them was comfortable—it was the type of ease borne between two people who had looked into the darkness inside each other and crawled back out the other side. Idle chatter was pointless, and unwanted.

Soon he was driving across the red clay she recognized from the photo that had started this journey. Then, the quaint church came into view, a halo of trees protecting it.

“It’s pretty.” Her hand twitching on the door handle. “Prettier in person.”

“Let’s get out,” Peeta said, pulling an old baseball cap from the center console. He fitted it over his wavy hair, and he looked like any boy back home, ready to go fishing or maybe go for a hike.

“Okay,” she said, but he was already out of the truck and jogging around to her side, helping her step down onto her leg. She winced and dragged it behind her, slowly walking toward the front steps of the church.

“Careful,” he said when she almost tripped.

They stopped in front of the doors, and Katniss was surprised when Peeta pulled on the handle and it opened. They stepped inside.

It was small, with maybe thirty wooden pews. There was a pulpit, and a small space for a choir. The stained glass windows were the most unique thing about the building. It wasn’t in disrepair but had a certain air about it, like it had been cast aside and forgotten.

She closed her eyes and tried to feel the presence of her parents, as if she could sense their past-selves running past her, happy and married. Fresh and new. She reached out a hand, and Peeta laced his fingers through hers, a wordless gesture.

“Do people still come here?”

“Not so much,” he said. His thumb moved back and forth over hers, and it was...comforting. “A lot of folks don’t have cars anymore. Can’t afford the gas. There’s a newer chapel closer to the center of town.”

“Oh.”

They sat down on one of the pews, and Katniss tilted back her head and stared up at the rafters.

“We could...um.” He glanced at her. “We could get married here, though. If you wanted.”

She didn’t reply at first. She watched a small black bird fuss with a nest, and she wondered if there were eggs. She loved eggs.

“Katniss?”

“Hmm? Oh.” She looked over at him. “Yes. We could. Whatever you’d like.”

He kissed her.

The door swung open, the noise explosive in the sacred space. The blackbird took flight from its nest, swooping in swift circles.

Katniss’ heart started to beat furiously when a large man with a thick grey beard swaggered into the church. His blue uniform had seen better days, but there was no mistaking the gleaming Sheriff’s badge on his chest.

A police officer. An actual, honest-to-God officer.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his hand on his gun belt.

Peeta stood up, coolly unruffled. “She wanted to see the place her parents were married.”

The man squinted at her and then back at Peeta. “And who is this pretty lady, exactly?”

“That’s Katniss,” he said. “Soon to be my wife.”

There was a moment of silence, and then the Sheriff grinned widely, exposing a mouth of yellow teeth.

“Well, I’ll be damned, Peeta!” He clapped the younger man on the back and shook his hand with an excited pump. “Congratulations. I had no idea you had a special lady.”

Katniss’ eyes darted back and forth, trying to understand what was happening.

Peeta smiled and pulled her to her feet. “This is Sheriff Cray, Katniss.” He rubbed her shoulder. “If you ever need help out of a jam, he’s the one to call.”

Sheriff Cray tipped his cap. “Anytime, ma’am.” He directed his attention back to Peeta and rubbed his hands together. “Wanted to thank you for that newest delivery of, ah, steak last week. It was much appreciated.”

Katniss wanted to laugh, except it was the world’s least funny joke.

\--------

Peeta's father was standing on the wraparound porch when they pulled into the long driveway leading up to the house. He was clearly anticipating their arrival and waved his arm rapidly when they were parked.

Katniss glanced over at Peeta, a wary fissure breaking through her numb cloud. He just shrugged in return, adjusting the brim of his baseball cap. She waited for him to turn off the truck and then walk around it to open the car door for her.

So polite, her boy.

"You're just in time!" Mr. Mellark said, throwing his arm around her.

Her lips curved weakly, and she looked over her shoulder at Peeta with worried eyes. He frowned and pulled Katniss away, wrapping his own arm around her instead.

His father gave them an easy smile and inclined his head. "Come around back."

She limped behind them until Peeta grabbed her hand, forcing her to walk side by side with him. He kept a slow pace, mindful of her bad leg. When they turned the corner, she stopped and dug in her heels. For the first time in two weeks, she  _felt_ again.

On the picnic table where they ate supper last Sunday lay a body. There was no head, only sprawled limbs and sad, battered skin. She turned her face and focused on a chubby squirrel running along the tree line about ten running strides away. She touched her thigh absently. Thirty limps away.

Bran had started a burn pile while Rye chatted next to him, no doubt talking his ear off if the put-upon expression on Bran's face was any indication. Mrs. Mellark was nowhere in sight—typical, she was more of a chef than a butcher.

"It's nice today," Mr. Mellark said, clapping his hands together. He was right. The sky was a perfect blue, and though the air was chilly with a bracing wind, swatches of warmth from the sun kept the temperature bearable. "Marvelous weather for working outside."

"Yeah, princess," Bran called out, tossing a log onto the crackling fire. A cloud of fiery sparks shot up from the burn pile. "We rolled out the red carpet just for you. No dark basements for Peeta's  _special_ girl." He shot her a sardonic smile.

"Me?" She took a step back, wincing when her foot caught on an uneven piece of ground. She gritted her teeth and dug her nails into her palm as pain radiated up her leg in hot, streaky waves, the intensity sending her into a momentary panic. She was back on the forest floor again, her leg caught in a trap—

Peeta cupped her elbow and pressed his thumb into the joint where her elbow met her arm, redirecting the pain. It was sick how fast she calmed down. He knew all her tells, all her triggers.

"Yes, you." Rye ambled over and thumped at a fly lazing on the nipple of the corpse. "You're gonna run the show today."

Her stomach roiled, and she pressed back into Peeta's chest. "What do you mean?"

"It's time to show us what you got," Bran said, dusting off his big hands and joining Rye by the table. He picked up a sharp knife from a bucket on the table's bench seat and held it out to her with a mocking flourish. "First cut goes to you, darling sister."

She shook her head and tilted her chin to look at Peeta.

 _Help me_ , she pleaded with her eyes.

He frowned down at her and then looked at the picnic table for a long moment. He sighed.

"I think it's a good idea," Peeta finally said, his hands finding her shoulders. He started walking her toward the body, and she shook her head back and forth with violent force. An energy she hadn't felt in some time coursed through her veins, and she staggered to the side when they stopped in front of the headless thing.

Her lips quivered.

"I'm not doing it," she said and started to cry. Because she would. She knew she would.

Katniss had no choice.

Peeta's father and brothers stood in a semi circle across from her on the other side of the table, silent. For once, Bran was devoid of sarcasm; instead, his expression was solemn and expecting. Rye had a glint of excitement in his eyes, his nostrils flaring as he cracked his knuckles. Mr. Mellark just gave her a pleasant smile and cleaned his glasses, squinting down at the corpse with a myopic stare.

"I can't. I can't," she said, her hand limp as Bran pressed the knife into it. She held it like a sad little sword, and she was so tense she felt her back aching like a ninety-year-old woman. Peeta brought his arms around her and guided her hand down, gentle but firm as he helped her press the tip of the knife into the fleshy abdomen. Blood welled to surface, and her cheeks puffed out, vomit threatening to rise as quickly as the blood from the corpse's skin.

"There," Peeta murmured into her ear, kissing her jawline beneath. "First blood is the hardest."

She remembered a day when she was twelve, when her father took her on a hunting trip. She had bagged a large buck, and he taught her how to clean her own kill.

 _This wasn't much different_ , she told herself.  _It's just an animal. Another animal._

Her breathing slowed, and she pulled away from Peeta. She dropped the knife and peered into the bucket of implements, choosing a small scalpel with a clinical eye. She started to cut and noted with a dull sort of surprise that it was so much easier than sawing into a deer. She hummed to herself and went to another place. The body in front of her became a sack of meat and blood. Then, she reached inside and pulled something out—oh, a liver.

"Nice," Rye said in admiration.

She cupped it in her dripping palms and everyone clapped. Peeta kissed her hand, his lips stained red. They told her how proud they were, and she dropped the liver in a bowl. Rye took over, and Peeta washed her fingers clean at the spigot by the house.

"C'mere," he said roughly, picking her up. He walked them to the front of the house, pulled up the skirt of her pink dress, and fucked her against the porch railing.

It felt good.

\---------

"I was thinking," Katniss said. The kitchen table grew quiet. It wasn't often that Katniss spoke, let alone initiated the conversation. The baby cooed in Peeta's lap. "I could hunt."

Bran was the first to laugh.

"You?" He took a long sip of water. "You can still barely stand to watch us filet a body, let alone—"

"No." She wiped her hands on the napkin in her lap, then twisted the cloth back and forth. She looked at Peeta, who cocked his head at her, listening.

He always listened to her. When she said the baby needed to sleep in their room at night at all times, even when his mother wanted Lily in their room, Peeta was the one who championed the argument, despite the fact that it cut down on their sex life. When Katniss wanted to lay down for a nap while "guests" were brought into the house, more often than not, Peeta gave her the key to the bedroom so she could lock herself in.

She continued, "I want to hunt animals. I'm...I'm good at it. I've done it all my life, and I think it'd be good to have the surplus of food."

Peeta's father looked thoughtful. Rye, indifferent.

"Like I said." Bran sat back in his chair with a self-satisfied expression. "Still squeamish."

"I don't know," Peeta said. "I think it's not a bad idea. There's no such thing as too much meat. Sometimes we don't see new people for weeks."

"Oh, please," Mrs. Mellark said, crossing her arms. "You're buying this? She just wants a chance to get out in the woods again. An opportunity to take off. Even with that cruddy leg, she could get lucky. Find a tourist."

"Nah." Peeta jiggled the baby and smiled down at her. "Katniss wouldn't leave her family, right? Would she, Lily?"

They all looked at her.

"No," she said, resigned. She took a bite of casserole. Chewed. Swallowed. "I wouldn't."

After dinner, she and Peeta excused themselves and sat on the porch with Lily, watching fireflies and sharing a small glass of some sort of moonshine that one of the local men had traded for meat. Peeta wasn't much of a drinker—neither was she—but the smooth, apple flavor felt good down her throat. A pleasant sort of warmth rolled throughout her body, and she felt something close to excitement as she stared out at the forest.

_She would get to hunt again._

Katniss looked over at the man next to her and watched as he played with Lily's toes while she slept on his lap. Thanks to him, she had a small bit of freedom back. Something to look forward to. A purpose.

This was as good as it would get.

"Peeta," she said suddenly. "Come upstairs."

He raised his eyebrows at her, confused. "Okay. You tired?"

"No."

They walked upstairs, Katniss wincing as always when the ascent jarred her leg, but she had other things on her mind than a bit of nagging pain. He laid the baby in her crib on the other side of the bedroom and turned around, his eyes narrowing when she started to strip.

"Come here," she said once she was bare.

He ambled her way, stopping in front of Katniss. He looked at her with a wary expression, like she was a thing he didn't understand. He reached out a hand to touch her, but she stepped backward. Peeta scowled.

"Sit down on the bed."

He did as she asked, lowering his body down to the edge of the mattress.

She dropped to her knees and reached for his zipper.

"What are you doing?" he asked, fascinated. "Katniss—what— _oh_."

After, he held her in bed and stroked her hair with a still shaking hand. He wouldn't let her go, kissing her lips and nuzzling her neck.

"I love you, I think." He brushed the vulnerable swatch of skin under her eye with his thumb. "If I ever loved something, it's you."

\----------

"How is it?" Katniss asked, sitting on the edge of counter. She poked Peeta's side, laughing a little when he glared at her and rubbed the spot.

"It's...good. Really good," he said, spearing a piece of venison with a fork and holding it to her lips. She took the bite and closed her eyes with pleasure.

"Maybe some more pepper." She tapped her chin. "But otherwise, perfect."

"Hey, little sister," Rye said, strolling into the kitchen. He snatched the fork out of Peeta's hand and stabbed at a piece of meat in the sizzling pan. "Not bad," he added. "Definitely better than last month's rabbit fiasco." He ruffled Katniss' hair and nudged her. "You think you're so smart, huh? The ol' bait and switch. This was your plan all along, I bet."

She shrugged shyly, jumping from the counter and checking on Lily in her highchair.

"Winter's coming, though," Rye said around a mouthful of deer. "Don't get too used to this."

"Rye," Peeta said mildly. "Shut up."

Katniss listened to Lily babble, unfazed.

Family bickered sometimes, that's all.

\---------

Lily started to wail when the front door slammed open.

"A little help, please," Bran gritted out, dragging a kicking, screaming girl into the house. Peeta leapt to his feet. Rye followed shortly after Bran, grunting as he pulled a huge man with a bloody face across the floor with difficulty. Katniss couldn't tell if he was dead or not. "These two were...problematic."

"You're gonna die!" the girl shrieked. She threw her arms out like Katniss had all those months ago, wedging herself into the basement stairwell. Her wild eyes landed on Katniss, who stared back from the living room floor. "You!"

She clutched Lily to her chest.

"Help us!" she screamed. "My name is Clove—I'm someone's  _daughter_ —and Cato has a  _son_!"

Katniss turned her face away.

Clove disappeared down the stairs, Bran's hand closing around her throat.

Rye shook his head and gestured for Peeta to grab the bleeding man's feet. "These two are worse than you were, Katniss. This big guy didn't want to go down."

The two brothers lifted the man and followed Bran down into the basement.

Katniss rocked back and forth with Lily, her whole body trembling. Mrs. Mellark appeared from the kitchen and crossed her arms.

"What was all that racket?" she asked, an annoyed frown on her face.

"Dinner," Katniss said, closing her eyes.

\---

"It's awfully quiet down there," Mr. Mellark said. Utensils scraped against plates. "That girl must have worn herself out."

"Yes, well, I'm glad. She was ruining my appetite," his wife sniffed. "You should have just killed them both."

"We were hungry, Ma." Rye frowned. "We weren't expecting to come across two city slickers on the way home from work. Don't worry, they're toast." He took a bite and swallowed. "Right after dinner."

Bran laughed, the sound cruel and mocking. "You know the funny part? They were gonna try to rob us. I knew right away that they weren't having car trouble. "

"They didn't expect us country folk to get the drop on them first," Rye drawled, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

Katniss shifted in her seat, an uneasy feeling in her stomach. Everything felt wrong.

Bran cocked his head and dropped his fork on his plate. "They are a little too quiet, though. Time to make 'em scream a little." He gave Katniss a look, like he could see inside of her and read her misgivings like a book. "Want to come along, little sister?"

She dropped her head.

He stood up from the table. "Didn't think so. Great dinner, Ma."

They waited until he had gone downstairs before anyone spoke again.

"Katniss," Peeta said, putting his hand on her thigh. "I talked to the pastor in town. He's willing to marry us in Twelve Souls Church." He smiled. "All it took was a little meat."

She smiled back weakly. "Sounds good."

The family chatted about wedding plans until Rye frowned. "It's still really quiet. That girl...she should be screaming by now. Running her mouth."

"Go check on your brother, then." Mrs. Mellark stood, starting to clear the plates. "He has no patience. He probably cut her head off as soon as that girl started in on him.”

Rye nodded and stood.

Katniss helped Peeta's mother with the dishes while Mr. Mellark wandered into the living room to smoke his pipe.

"Peeta," Katniss said over her shoulder. "Lily needs a new diaper—"

There was a hoarse, terrible scream from the basement.

It sounded like Rye.

"Peeta," his father yelled. They rushed toward the living room, and then all hell broke loose.

The sound of stomping feet erupted from the basement stairwell, and then Clove and Cato appeared, covered in blood and holding shining blades. A meat cleaver. An axe.

“You’re dead,” Cato rasped, lifting his arm back. Then they watched from the doorway as he brought the axe down on Mr. Mellark’s head. It split like a ripe watermelon, blood spraying back onto Cato’s face. “ _Dead._ ”

Mrs. Mellark screamed.

“Go upstairs,” Peeta said calmly, backing into the kitchen. “Katniss, take the baby and go.”

She hesitated for only a moment before grabbing the baby from the high chair and rushing up the stairs as fast as her leg would allow. She realized that Peeta had the key to the room and pressed against the wall, wishing she had thought to grab a weapon. A knife.

It sounded like a war downstairs. A crashing sound, like someone was thrown into the green lamp that she hated in the living room. A shriek.

Her family was dying. She was probably next. She stood on shaky legs and peered out the window, despairing. It was too high. She would break one or both of her legs again. Lily...she wouldn’t make the fall.

The bedroom door flew open, and there was Clove, her teeth bared, blood dripping down her once-pretty face.

“Please,” Katniss said, laying Lily on the bed with careful, shaking hands. “Don’t hurt the baby. At least call someone, or take her with you—”

“I don’t care about that rat,” Clove said, advancing on her with a manic, predatory gleam. “It can starve for all I care. Now I’m gonna gut you like a fish and leave you to die like the rest of your psycho family.”

She lunged, and Katniss feinted to the right, her leg buckling with the sudden move. Clove followed her down to the floor, and Katniss found an inner strength she hadn’t felt in months. She pinned Clove’s hand to the floor and drew back her fist, knocking her in the face. The other girl screamed and bucked her body, throwing Katniss off. There was a brief, frantic struggle, where Katniss didn’t know where Clove ended and she began. She was sliced in the arm with the cleaver. Then the cleaver was in Katniss’ hand.

The baby shrieked.

Katniss pulled back her arm and sliced into the other girl’s throat. There was a spray, and a gurgle, and then Clove was still.

Katniss collapsed against the bed, frozen.

Cato appeared in the doorway, and Katniss didn’t flinch. She was too tired. She felt a dull sort of devastation, because Peeta must be dead. There was a time when the thought would have pleased her to no end, and now she realized that she loved him

She started laughing, low and hysterical.

“Crazy bitch,” Cato said, staggering toward her. “You’re gonna—”

He stopped, his eyes bulging. Blood poured from his mouth. He lurched forward, hitting the ground, and Peeta pulled the knife from Cato’s back.

“You’re alive,” Katniss said, her voice shaking.

Cato crawled toward Clove’s body, gasping. Katniss and Peeta ignored him, staring at each other.

“So are you,” he said, relief and love unmistakeable in his voice.

“The others?”

Peeta’s  face shadowed. He glared down at Cato, who went still on the floor, his eyes glazing over with the finality of death.

“They’re gone,” he said. “It’s just us now.”

He walked over to her with difficulty and sat down beside her on the floor. He was bloody, bruised, and beautiful to her. She leaned up and pulled Lily from the bed, propping her in her lap.

“I love you,” Katniss said. The baby cooed in agreement.

Peeta kissed her.

\----

_Three Years Later_

“Keep your arm steady,” Katniss said with a quiet laugh. “And stop being so loud.”

Peeta mock-frowned at her. “So bossy.”

“I’m trying to make you better!”

“I don’t think anyone will ever be better than with you with a bow.”

“Hush, flatterer,” Katniss said. “Here they come.”

They narrowed their eyes at the prey in the distance.

“Aim higher,” she said. “He’s tall.”

“You take the wife?” he asked. “I’ll get the husband?”

She nodded.

“On the count of three…”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my beta, Amy.
> 
> Happy Halloween! 
> 
> (I'm peetaspenis on tumblr. Come hang out.)


End file.
